you.” She smiled, surprised and pleased to see this softer, gentler side of him. Maybe there was more to Jake than the sarcastic bad boy he played so well.
“You have a nice smile,” he said. “You should use it more often.”
Was he flirting with her? She wasn’t sure if she liked it or not. She pulled her hand from his, the old awkwardness returning. “I…I guess we’d better get off of here.”
Laughing and talking, the other couples headed down a shell path toward a lattice-shaded building marked Reception, leaving Jake and Glynna alone. A tall, thin African-American woman with razor-cut hair and a figure-hugging white pantsuit stepped forward and greeted them. “You must be Jake and Glynna,” she said, extending her hand. “I’m Marcie Phillips, director of marketing here at La Paloma. Welcome. We’re so glad you could join us for our grand opening.”
“I’m looking forward to seeing your operation here.” Glynna looked around them at the palm-shaded palapas, the rows of colorful sailboats lined up opposite a beach volleyball court and the marble-trimmed swimming pool ringed by lounge chairs filled with sunning couples. “This is quite a setup.”
“I’ve left press kits in your cottage, and of course, I’m available to answer any questions you might have while you’re here.”
She instructed them to leave their bags on the dock for the porter to bring later, and set off down a path. “I’ve put you in one of our deluxe cottages,” she said. “All of our accommodations are right on the beach and feature private whirlpool tubs and shaded verandas.”
Glynna hurried to keep up with Marcie’s brisk pace. “Excuse me,” she said. “Did you say one cottage?”
Marcie scarcely slowed down. “Of course. It’s designed as the perfect couple’s getaway. Each has a king-size bed, plus a well-appointed sitting room with a stereo, DVD player—”
“But there are two of us.” Glynna put a hand on Marcie’s arm, stopping her. “We’ll need two cottages.”
Marcie looked from Glynna to Jake, frown lines deepening on her forehead. “I thought you understood. This is a couples-only resort. I’m sure I made that quite clear to your editor.”
Glynna struggled to keep her voice even. “Jake and I aren’t a couple.”
Marcie shook her head. “We’re completely booked for our grand opening. This is the only cottage we have available.”
Glynna looked at Jake. He’d helped her out on the boat. Would he help her now? He raised one eyebrow. “I can share if she can. After all, we’re both adults, and it’s only for a weekend.”
Glynna’s stomach dropped to somewhere in the vicinity of her knees. Spend the weekend with sarcastic, sharp-tongued and dangerously sexy Jake Dawson? They’d drive each other crazy within a matter of hours.
“That would be wonderful.” Marcie looked relieved. She smiled at Glynna. “Thank you for being so understanding.”
She looked up and found Jake’s eyes on her. “What do you say?” he asked. “Or are you worried I’ll tarnish your virtue?”
Now he’d done it. She had to agree or she’d look like a prude. She held her head up and adopted what she hoped was an air of indifference. “It doesn’t matter to me if it doesn’t matter to Jake. We’ll both be busy working most of the time anyway.”
“Great. Your cottage is right over here.” Marcie started down the path again, and led them to the last in a row of six. The square whitewashed building had blue shutters, porches on three sides and abundant heart and dove gingerbread trim. “How romantic,” Jake leaned forward and growled into Glynna’s ear, the rough timbre of his voice sending a jolt through her.
After giving them a brief tour of the three rooms that made up the cottage, Marcie finally left them alone. The porter appeared seconds later and deposited their luggage just inside the door.
Glynna carried her suitcase into the bedroom. Jake followed. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I won’t lay a finger on you. You’re not really my type.”
She flinched at the remark. Not that she was interested in a man like Jake, but did he have to make a point of telling her she was undesirable?
She opened her suitcase and took out her makeup bag. “I’ll take the bed. You can have the sofa.”
She started toward the bathroom, but he intercepted her. “No way. I’m a foot taller than you. You take the sofa.”
She glared at him, noting not only how tall he was, but how broad his shoulders and chest were. “All right. I’ll take the sofa.”
“Good.” He walked over to the bed and stripped off his shirt in one smooth movement.
She stared, her mouth going dry at the sight of his broad, muscular back. “Wh…what are you doing?” she asked.
“This is the beach. I’m going to change into my swimsuit.” He glanced at her. “I suggest you do the same unless you want to really stick out.”
He headed for the bathroom, leaving her alone. She opened her suitcase again and took out her most conservative swimsuit—a modest tankini with high-cut legs that suddenly seemed incredibly revealing.
She glanced at the closed bathroom door. Should she change now, or wait until the bathroom was free? What if Jake walked out while she was still undressing?
With trembling fingers, she reached for the zipper on her dress. What if he did walk out and find her half-dressed? Would he think her so undesirable then?
She hurriedly stripped and donned the swimsuit, then hung the sundress in the closet and deposited her dirty clothes in a side pocket of her suitcase. The last thing she wanted was to leave her underwear around for Jake to find.
When he emerged from the bathroom, he had a beach towel over one shoulder. He scarcely glanced at her, but went to his bag and took out a digital camera. “I’m going to take a few preliminary shots.”
He left without saying goodbye. Glynna stared after him, then sank onto the end of the bed. With Jake gone, the cottage felt too quiet and still. She stared at the painting across from the bed. It depicted a couple walking hand in hand into the sunset. The romantic image mocked her. When was the last time she’d had anything approaching romance in her life? Where was the man who was going to sweep her off her feet and make her forget about work and her father and all the stress in her life?
The men she usually met were either business associates of her father, whom she’d known since she was a toddler, or society playboys whose idea of romance was an expensive dinner at a trendy restaurant, followed by discreet and polite sex. Where were the men who could bring excitement and adventure into her dull existence?
Men like Jake Dawson. The thought sent a tremor through her. Maybe spending the weekend in this cottage with him wasn’t such a smart idea. The very fact that he was so different from every other guy she knew acted as a kind of aphrodisiac. How else to explain her sudden attraction to a man who was so clearly not right for her?
She hugged her arms across her chest and frowned at the happy couple in the picture. If Jake knew what she was thinking about him, he’d
