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“What the hell is he doing?” I grit, scanning the area for paparazzi or anyone inconspicuous.
Thankful not to spot Turner hanging around, I hurry and park my rental. Next, I double-check my red lips and dark eyeshadow I applied en route. I’m no Jane Bond, but hey, it’s as good a disguise as any.
I fall into job mode, grabbing my camera and snapping several shots of the numskull flirting with them. Zooming in, I capture him hugging the petite redhead as she trails her neon yellow tips across his pecs.Click. Then a deeply bronzed female squeezes his biceps as she whispers something that makes his head tip back with laughter.Click.
There he is. This is the Marcus Matthews I know, not the enticing, arrogant one who makes ruffling my feathers an Olympic sport.
Pain radiates up both sides of my jaw from how hard I’m clenching. I sit back, frowning down at the twisting knots inside of my stomach.
Am I… jealous?
One of the girls takes his hand, tugging him toward the beach, and like watching a train wreck, I slap the steering wheel. “Don’t go, you idiot!”
A minivan sputters to a halt directly in my view, and by the time I drop my camera to the floorboard and jump out of the vehicle, they’re gone.
“Shit.” I worry my lip between my teeth.
It’s one thing for me to sneak a few pictures—I mean, Marcusisthe entire reason I’m on this stupid island to begin with—but who knows the kind of stories someone else would spin.
I’m gathering hard facts here. This isn’t going to be some willie-nilly gossip piece; it’ll be an article to covet. One that breaks down every secret the Matthews harbor, exposing them for who they truly are.
With not a cloud in sight, the sun beats against my skin to the point that I’m certain my makeup is melting. The heady scent of suntan lotion and citrus float on a gentle breeze as I sneak across the sand-sprinkled parking lot. I slip behind one of the striped changing tents beside the shower where I had last spotted him.
“Who are we spying on?”
“Christ on a cracker!” I gasp, slapping a hand over my heart and spinning around in a rush.
“Red looks good on you, slayer.” A cocky smile curls the edges of Marcus’s lips. His delight in spooking me intensifies when he glances at my tattered old hat. “Not so sure about this, though.”
“Stop calling me that.” I seethe, still furious with him, but there goes my pulse flittering like mad again.
“Care to explain why you’re stalking me?”
The hum wisping around his question beckons a swirl of heat deep in my pelvis.
Naturally, I opt for cynicism. “Contrary to what you may think, not everything revolves aroundyou.”
“Is that right?”
I nod through the flutters brought on by my earlier jealousy.
“Liar,” he purrs.
“Just who do you think you are calling me a liar?”
He catches my wrist before I can shove him.
“All right, I’ll bite. Let’s pretend that youdidn’toverhear me and Pen talking while you were in the barn yesterday.” He’s goading me. There’s no way he could have known. “What are you doing on this oddly specific part of the island?”
“I-I…”
“You,” he drawls, mockingly.
Think, Sinclair.
My gaze flies around the beach before landing on a pier with shops and restaurants extending out over the blush-colored ocean.
I deserve an Oscar for the steadfast shrug I give, considering I’m practically vibrating with anxiety. “All my blogger friends say Pearl Beach is the perfect spot for shopping. I came to buy some clothes.”
