grinned and her polarized sunglasses did nothing to protect her from the dazzle. “Do I need an excuse to talk to you?”
“No, you need to take a number. Can’t you see how popular I am?” She waved at the empty beach. “Sandals and sand don’t mix, ironically enough. That’s why I’m barefoot. Stop asking me about my ankle.”
Weakness in any form bothered her, especially around Keith, who could scent weakness with the precision of a homing device. Meredith’s shark scenario was sweet, but ineffective. Sharks never ate their own kind.
She sighed. Keith wasn’t quite the heartless bastard she’d been telling herself for two years. She’d have to stop thinking of him as one.
“Then I’ll go with a different excuse. Have dinner with me.”
She couldn’t help it. Laughter bubbled out before she could choke it back. “No, really. What do you want?”
“That is what I want. But in lieu of that, I’ll settle for your advice. The resort wedding coordinator quit with no notice. Her first task was to organize a mock wedding for the expo, and it’s in shambles. Is there any way you could walk through the plans with one of the management staff?”
She stared at Keith’s inscrutable expression. “You want my help?”
“Desperately and I’m not afraid to beg. I’d compensate you for your time.”
Her soul thrilled a little at the thought of a big bucket of masculinity like Keith on his knees, begging. She was five-eight, but even in heels, she never got to be taller than him.
“Money’s not the object of my hesitation. It’s more that you’re asking me for a favor.” That brought her up short. He’d owe her. Big-time. And she’d already started thinking of ways to collect, starting with a brand-new fantasy involving Keith and his knees. “Why would you ask me, out of all the people here?”
“Because you’ve planned a wedding.”
“That’s rich, Mitchell. How convenient.”
“It’s not a matter of convenience. I’ve seen what you can do, and no one else could possibly hope to meet my standards. Except you.” Those caramel eyes were on hers, all melty and scrumptious and saying far more than his mouth did.
“So now my ability to plan a wedding is a hot commodity. As I recall, you weren’t so keen on it before.” She waited for the sting of anger, but it had really and truly fled, dang it. When she’d told him she’d forgiven him in the elevator, it had mostly been because she couldn’t resist being contrary, but it seemed to have stuck.
And he wanted her help with wedding planning. Nothing got her more excited. Well, almost nothing.
“I can’t redo the past. But I can make it up to you now. Name it. Your wish is my command.” His scalding gaze rested on her feet again and her toes tingled. She dug them down into the sand where he couldn’t see them.
“Don’t worry about it.” She had absolutely zero desire to find out how he intended to make it up to her. Okay, maybe ten percent desire, but strictly out of curiosity. “I’ll help you, but I’ll be very demanding and difficult to work with.”
His knee swung closer to hers, grazing it as he leaned forward. “Which is no less than I expect. Thanks.”
Her breath caught. Of all things, Keith’s knee was turning her insides flippy, way down low where all the really neglected parts had throbbed to life. “When do you need me?”
“Right now.” That caramel gaze boiled over with searing intensity, holding her captive.
Heat blazed, nearly singeing her uncovered skin. The covered places were pretty hot too and straining to be free of their confines. “You can have me for an hour. Is that long enough?”
“I can accomplish plenty with you in an hour.”
Her tongue came out to wet parched lips, and every nerve was screaming to feel his mouth against them instead. “We’re still talking about the same thing, right?”
He held out a hand and God above, she was afraid to take it. But she did. He drew her forward, oh so slowly, into his space, where it smelled like ocean and Keith. “I sincerely hope so.”
“Great,” she croaked and jerked back out of the danger zone. “Let me put my dress in the room and grab my shoes. I’ll meet your staff member at the front desk.”
“I’ll tell her to expect you.” He let her pull away, never breaking eye contact as their flesh separated. “And Cara? You and I both know that’s not what we were talking about.”
She fled before her neglected parts overruled her brain.
By the time she reached her room, she was breathless and mad at herself.
So Keith was hot and really, really, really good at making her body hum. Everything down there needed to shut up. This wasn’t a vacation and they both had a lot of work to do. Plus, he scared the crap out of her. She’d been down that path and it was not lined with primrose.
The man had serious commitment issues. Her heart wasn’t up for another beating, and she could never have a casual tropical island fling with Keith Mitchell. Not then, not now. They were total opposites in that regard. He wasn’t interested in long-term. She was.
Besides, Keith had superhero sperm, capable of leaping tall birth control methods. She wasn’t even on the pill this time. Abstinence was the only method guaranteed to work.
The reasons for steering clear were piled so high, she couldn’t see over them even if she put on a pair of ten-inch heels.
Meredith was gone, thank goodness. Cara so did not want to have another conversation about he-who-must-not-be-named, and on top of that, her sister could read her like an instruction manual. Cara was genuinely afraid of what must be written all over her face—her runaway groom admitted he needed her and praised her wedding-planning efforts at the same time.
That flipped her insides much more powerfully than any heated gaze Keith could shoot in her direction.
* * *
Keith waited for Cara at the front desk and shot off some emails so he didn’t look like a lovesick teenager hanging out in hopes of accidentally running into the object of his affection. Of course, the things he wanted to do to Cara had a decidedly adult theme. All that heat on the beach had definitely not been one-sided, but she apparently planned to pretend otherwise.
He didn’t. This expo would get 100 percent of his attention during working hours, but there was nothing wrong with some after-hours relaxation with an old flame, was there?
Clacking heels announced Cara’s arrival, but his Y chromosome had scented her the moment she stepped through the lobby doors. That peach outfit hadn’t grown any less mouthwatering as the day wore on, and the sea breeze had teased her hair into a tumbled mess his fingers strained to dive into.
The rest of the lobby vanished. All he could see was Cara.
“I’m here,” she said.
Yes, she was.
