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“I hope you're enjoying your stay with us.”
“It's a beautiful resort.” That, at least, was true.
He glanced at her well-filled plate. “It's always a pleasure to see a woman appreciate our chef's efforts.”
She really detested this guy. Even though he was being perfectly congenial, there was just something about him that made her want to punch him. And she had never considered herself a particularly violent woman.
She filled her mouth with Belgian waffle to avoid having to respond to him.
Her movement drew his eyes to the glittering new bracelet on her right wrist. “Very pretty,” he said, touching it with his fingertips. “Though not as beautiful as its wearer, of course.”
His fingers lingered a bit longer than necessary against her skin. She couldn't get over the nerve of this guy. He seemed so convinced that he could charm his way past the cool reserve she had shown around him. And it didn't seem to deter him in the least that Daniel was sitting only a few feet away.
“Thank you,” she said and drew away from him to turn toward Daniel with a brilliant and—she hoped—adoring smile. “My husband gave it to me. He's such a sweet man.”
“Sweet,” Drake murmured, looking rather quizzically toward Daniel. Apparently the man he knew as Daniel Andreas was anything but “sweet.”
Daniel took B.J.'s left hand and lifted it to his lips. “That's me,” he murmured against her knuckles. “Just a sweet guy.”
His gaze locked with B.J.'s over her hand, and she found herself unable to look away. His eyes were so dark, so reflective that she could almost see herself in them. If she didn't know better, she could almost believe that he very much liked what he saw.
“Well…” Sounding only slightly less affable than before, Drake stood. “I'll leave you lovebirds to your breakfast. Daniel, I'll see you in my office at ten. And by the way—all the times you talked about your lovely Brittany before? You hardly did her justice.”
With what B.J. considered an especially oily smile, he nodded and moved on.
“That is the creepiest man I have ever met,” B.J. muttered furiously.
“He's just—”
“Wait a minute.” She set her fork down with a thump and frowned at Daniel. “He called me Brittany.”
“Yes. Well, he doesn't know—”
“He said you talked about me—about Brittany—before we even came here yesterday. Or did I misunderstand?”
Daniel sighed in what sounded like resignation. “You didn't misunderstand. When I mentioned my wife to Drake before, I called her Brittany. Fortunately he seems to accept that I use your nickname when we're together.”
“You made up a wife named Brittany?”
He glanced around to make sure no one could over hear them before replying in a low voice. “When I thought of a woman from Texas, the name Brittany just popped into my head. I suppose it was an old memory—besides, it sounds like the name of a woman from Texas with plenty of money.”
“Which is why I prefer my initials,” she muttered. “My mother gave me a name that's never felt like my own. Still—”
Daniel reached for his coffee mug, his face revealing none of his emotions. “The fact that I coincidentally used your name means nothing, of course. It has simply made it easier for us in the long run.”
Taking the hint that he didn't want to talk about it anymore, she forced her attention back to her breakfast. Perhaps it truly meant nothing that he had given her name to his fictional wife. But it was very…interesting that he had done so, she mused.
B.J. went outside later that morning, not so much because Daniel had asked her to but because the maids were impatient to clean the suite and she didn't want to get in their way. She drifted through a few shops, but the merchandise displayed for purchase couldn't hold her attention.
There were quite a few people sitting around the pools, sunning, reading, tapping on laptop computers, but few were actually swimming. The tennis courts were in use, as were many of the machines in the work-out facilities, but B.J. had no interest in either activity.
She settled finally for a long walk on the beach. She hadn't visited the ocean many times, and it was a pleasant diversion to stroll on the sand, letting the breeze stroke her skin and listening to the sounds of the surf. She walked slowly, stopping often to examine busy tide pools and interesting shells and to watch in delight as a few dolphins played in the waves some distance from the shore.
When the dolphins disappeared, she turned and began to walk again, farther from the resort. She saw a couple on horseback far ahead of her but passed no one else. Apparently this wasn't a popular swimming or sunning area, since the crowds seemed to have gathered closer to the resort, where umbrellas and cold drinks were at hand for their convenience.
The riders had turned and vanished, presumably taking another path back to the resort stables. Looking ahead, B.J. saw only sand and grass and rocks. If she continued walking, she would surely reach another resort. Some private beach homes, perhaps.
With a little luck—and a few phone calls—she could be back in Dallas by the end of the day, back to her own life. Leaving Daniel behind to somehow explain how his wealthy and gullible “wife” had suddenly disappeared. Her bolting would certainly make his story of domestic bliss look suspicious, and Drake would immediately begin to question everything else Daniel had told him.
