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“I'll see you around,” Ingrid said, turning in the opposite direction as they left the spa. “It's been fun.”
And then she hesitated and said over her shoulder, “It really has been fun, B.J. I don't hang out with other women very often, you know?”
“It was nice,” B.J. agreed with a smile. She was more accustomed to spending time with women than Ingrid and she couldn't really see Ingrid fitting into her casual circle of friends, but the afternoon had passed quite pleasantly overall. Much better than sitting in the suite all afternoon worrying and waiting for Daniel to return.
In fact, she thought as her steps slowed, she wasn't quite ready yet to go back to the suite. She wasn't eager to face Daniel again with the awareness that she was falling in love with him hanging between them.
She turned abruptly and headed for the beach, avoiding the more populated areas to stroll slowly along a more deserted patch of damp sand. Daniel would probably be annoyed with her for going out by herself like this, but she didn't intend to go far. She simply needed a few minutes alone to fortify herself before seeing him again.
She walked to the edge of the water, letting the waves lap at her toes, unconcerned about her sandals. The breeze blew her freshly trimmed hair around her face. It felt unusually soft and had a light, flowery scent, thanks to whatever products had been used on her. She wondered if Daniel would notice the difference.
And then she grimaced as the thought crossed her mind. She had never been prone to primping for any man, and this was a lousy time to start.
What was she doing, anyway? How could she possibly explain the last four days to anyone else?
That she had allowed herself to be swept into an insane farce of a marriage, that she was helping a man pull off a scam of some sort that he hadn't even bothered to explain for her, that she was falling in love with that man despite having serious doubts about his motives and his moral fiber?
That she was having a no-strings affair with that man—something that was completely out of character for her? That she was fully prepared to make love with him again right now, knowing he wouldn't offer promises or even an assurance that he cared about her—for now or for the future?
Her parents would be certain that she was headed for disaster. Her sister would think she had lost her mind. Her friends would swear she'd been hypnotized into behavior that was completely alien to her. And maybe they would all be right.
But here she was. And she had no intention of leaving until Daniel sent her away.
Brittany Jeanne Samples had changed at some point between climbing out of her rental car outside that Missouri farmhouse and being swept straight into Daniel Andreas's arms. And she sincerely doubted that she would ever be the same again. She only hoped she would somehow find a way to be content with her old life again once she returned to it.
A shell half buried in the sand caught her eye. She bent to pick it up, swishing it a couple of times in the water to clean it.
The shell was a perfectly formed spiral only a couple of inches long, a creamy tan on the outside and soft, gleaming pink inside. Something about it appealed to her. She slipped it into her pocket, intending to take it home as a memento.
Not that she would need any souvenirs to remind her of every minute she had spent with Daniel at this resort. On the contrary, she was afraid that those memories would haunt her for the rest of her life.
“There's a charge for that, you know.”
She closed her eyes and stifled a groan before she turned to face Judson Drake. As much as she hated to admit it, she really should have listened to Daniel and gone straight back to the suite.
“B.J.?” Daniel expected to see her sitting in the chair with her book or maybe sprawled in one of the lounge chairs on the balcony, since she seemed to love the ocean air.
It took him only a couple of minutes to determine that she wasn't anywhere in the suite. “Damn it.”
It hadn't occurred to him that she would go out despite his request that she stay inside. She had been so cooperative so far, despite her misgivings, that he had taken for granted that she would continue to do as he asked while they were here.
Remembering the spark of defiance in her eyes, he told himself he should have known better.
B.J. was no one's puppet, he remi
nded himself. She had gone along with him so far because he'd convinced her that it was for her own good, but that didn't mean she would continue to blindly accept everything he said.
He remembered the last time she had wandered off on her own, when she had been followed down the beach by Bernard. Fortunately she hadn't done anything that time to put herself—or Daniel's cover story—in jeopardy. His stomach clenched at the possibility that she might be more reckless this time.
He tried to tell himself it was the plan he was most worried about, but he knew even as he threw open the door and headed purposefully out of the suite that his concerns were all for B.J.
Drake lounged on the beach behind B.J. with his arms crossed over his chest, his feet planted firmly in the sand. He was giving her one of those smiles he probably practiced in front of a mirror—and maybe some women would be dazzled by its shiny whiteness. B.J.'s reaction was to want to turn and run.
It was pride as much as responsibility that kept her where she was. “I beg your pardon?”
“I said there's a charge for taking my shells.”
She didn't want to ask what the charge would be. His smile had just enough leer to it to make her wary. “Perhaps you can bill it to our suite.”
