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“Essentially, you’re a private person and want to keep your lover to yourself?”
Her lover? It had been so long since Abby had had a lover she didn’t even know anymore.
“I suppose.”
A moment passed, then another. Nothing could be heard but the distant harpist and the subtle waves and ripples of the ocean. She should be uncomfortable, but she wasn’t. Nothing about being here, at this exact point in time, was wrong.
Cade’s whisper broke the silence. “Why aren’t you seeing anybody?”
“No time.”
He stepped closer, so close now their thighs were touching. So close, she could feel those lean, strong muscles in his legs.
Oh, God. Was he going to kiss her? His eyes remained on her mouth. Instinctively, Abby’s lips parted.
The intimacy was cut short by Cade’s cell phone. He swore, took a step back and ran a hand through his hair before pulling the phone from his pocket.
“Stone.”
Abby stepped back, as well, cursing whoever was on the other end of that call. She’d been mere milliseconds away from being kissed. There was no doubt in her mind.
“Yes, Mona.”
Abby turned toward the ocean, wrapped her arms around her waist as if that would keep the hurt from seeping in. Cade was talking to his fiancée. If that wasn’t a dose of reality slapping her in the face, she didn’t know what was.
With Cade’s low, powerful tone behind her, Abby knew she could either give up and accept the inevitable or she could step up her plan to fight for the man she wanted, the man she knew was capable of love.
Giving up wasn’t an option.
Five
What the hell was wrong with him? Flirting was one thing, but he’d been on the verge of taking a huge step beyond that.
Cade walked through his suite door, unbuttoning his cotton shirt. He’d cursed himself with every step since he’d left the romantic ambience of the beach just minutes ago.
But the scene had been magnetic, drawing him in and making the hold nearly impossible to break.
Before Mona’s ill-timed—or perfectly timed, depending on how he looked at it—phone call, he’d been less than a breath away from kissing Abby. Kissing Abby?
She was his assistant for crying out loud. Never once in the year that she’d worked for Stone Enterprises had he had any inkling of desire to get intimate with her. But tonight, the intoxicating combination of Abby’s sexy-as-hell dress, the secluded beach, the dinner and a harpist—that she’d planned just for them—had him wondering just what she was up to.
Planning a honeymoon was one thing, but Abby had gone above and beyond. Granted, she was the best assistant he’d ever had and she always did her job to the best of her abilities. But, he feared, it was those abilities that were going to get him in trouble.
Why the hell was he having these newfound emotions for Abby? Especially now that he was on the verge of a multi-billion-dollar deal, he couldn’t afford to allow any interruptions.
Of all the times in his life to find a woman he wanted to pursue, this was the absolute worst.
Cade grabbed the phone on the nightstand and dialed Abby’s room.
“Hello.”
Damn. Even her voice reminded him of sex on the beach.
“I need my schedule for this week.”
“Now?” she asked.
“Five minutes ago.”
He slammed down the phone, angry with himself for being rude to her, but angrier with her for playing games with his libido. And she probably had no clue the hold she had on him.
Not a minute later a knock sounded on his door. Crossing the coral-colored tile floor, Cade jerked the door open and strode away, expecting Abby to follow.
He stepped through the double doors, into the living area and turned. Damn it. She was still wearing that dress that did amazing things to her body, especially her breasts. Which reminded him he still stood with his shirt wide open.
She lifted the file in her hand. “You have a meeting with a contractor tomorrow at eleven. I’ve arranged—”
“What the hell is going on?”
Abby’s hand dropped, as did her face. “What?”
“The beach. The intimate dinner. That was more than research for a honeymoon.”
One hand went to her rounded hip. “Whatever you’re implying, just spit it out.”
Frustrated, Cade ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not implying anything. I’m stating facts. You could’ve worn a T-shirt and jeans, not…” He ran his hand up and down, motioning to her dress, what there was of it.
“What I’m wearing, or not wearing, shouldn’t be an issue. Every woman in Cancún is wearing something like this. Would you rather I wear my thong bikini?”
