Raia. That’s very kind of you.”
Pretty.
Nicola was about as into false modesty as she was into inflated celebrity egos; she knew she had the ability to turn some heads. But as she walked toward her golf cart, she realized how little she’d actually thought about her looks since arriving on Moretta. In LA she’d had a closetful of cute clothes that she wore to work, and had fun experimenting with different hair and makeup styles. But here it was a bikini every day, her hair seemed almost constantly wet and she’d had to actually search for her makeup bag this evening. Out of the four stylish dresses she’d brought to Moretta, she’d chosen a soft gray bamboo one that clung to her figure without being too obvious, paired with strappy silver sandals.
As she fired up her cart and started driving toward Pablo’s, she wasn’t sure if she was afraid she’d dressed too sexy or not sexy enough.
Alex drummed his fingers against the table and checked his watch. 8:06. He’d give it another four minutes before he started worrying she was going to be a no-show.
He glanced around the restaurant, taking in the open-air bar—free of the strawberry blonde bartender tonight, he was relieved to see—the casual island decor and the perfectly clear water surrounding the pier his table sat upon. Behind him the indigo sky was streaked with shades of orange and pink. Everything about the atmosphere screamed, relax, you’re in paradise! But Alex felt anything but relaxed.
He turned back to his table to check his phone, and his breath stopped.
She was standing right in front of him, waiting for him to acknowledge her. He was quite certain he’d never seen anything so beautiful in his life. Her dress, though anything but showy, revealed the perfection of her curves. Her blond hair lay in soft waves against her shoulders, and the small amount of makeup she wore intensified the color of her eyes. Her heart-shaped lips, free of lipstick, shone with a slick of gloss that made him want to bite and kiss them for hours.
“You look incredible,” he finally breathed, getting to his feet. He had meant to pull her chair out, but she beat him to it and sat herself down.
“Thanks,” she said with what seemed to be a touch of self-consciousness. She gave him a small smile that made the blood rush straight to his groin, and then she lowered her eyes again.
“Thank you for coming,” he started, feeling suddenly tongue-tied. When it came to women, they came to him. He wasn’t used to pursuing them, and even though he’d had a couple of longer relationships, they’d always been underlain by a feeling of temporariness. A mere distraction from a career that took nearly all of his time and energy to maintain. The woman sitting across from him was giving him the closest thing to a case of full-blown nerves that he’d ever experienced. “Like I said today, I never meant—”
“Forget it. Seriously. The lengths you’ve gone to to apologize have shown me you’re sincere. I’m ready to move on.” Nicola met his eyes again briefly, then she plucked the cocktail menu from between the salt and pepper shakers and started studying it. She replaced it and used her hands to sweep her hair off her neck and to one side. As he watched her, he imagined kissing the skin at her throat, trailing his mouth downward—“What is it?”
“Hmm? Oh, just…”
Fuck. He needed to pull himself together.
Thankfully, their waiter appeared just then, so they placed their order. After he left Nicola sat back in her seat, making no move to converse. Alex cleared his throat. “Can I ask you a rather obvious question?”
“Sure.”
“Why Moretta?”
Her expression changed immediately into one of…what? Retreat? “What do you mean?”
“I just mean that you’re obviously not from here. So what made you choose this island in particular?”
“A few reasons,” she replied, ripping the edge of her cocktail napkin into vertical, evenly spaced lines. “I moved here from LA, but I’m from Hawaii. I guess it reminded me of home.”
“Hawaii. What was it like growing up there?”
She seemed pleased by his question. “Do you know you might be the first person ever who didn’t react to that with, ‘Hawaii? Wow, nice!’”
“I try to stay unpredictable.” He raised an eyebrow. “But since you brought it up…was it?”
She laughed. “Yes and no. Mostly no.”
He waited. There was a story there, and if there was anything she wanted to share, then he very much wanted to hear it. But she smoothly changed the focus to him. “How about you?”
He shrugged. “LA born and raised. Westwood. I’ve tried to fight my way out a few times, but it seems to have its claws in me pretty deep. My brother escaped to London a decade ago, and he takes a lot of joy in reporting how much better it is.”
“A rock-star brother. What’s that like?”
Alex shrugged. “Weird. Normal. Mostly all I’ve ever known—I was fifteen when he first hit it big.”
“I can’t imagine what it must be like to go through life in someone’s shadow like that.”
Alex looked at her in surprise. Nicola had just voiced what everyone else seemed afraid to, as if his ego couldn’t take such a frank observation. And it was true, of course—he had grown up in Dev’s shadow, and however successful he may have become in his own right, it could never compare to the brightness of his brother’s rare and phenomenal star. His parents had never tried to pretend otherwise. “Rarely fun,” Alex admitted. “I guess the only blessing is that I didn’t try to follow in his footsteps. I mean, have you ever heard of the younger brother of a rock star hitting it big?”
Nicola grinned. “Can’t say as I have. So what career path did you take instead?”
“I headed an import business until four years ago, when I took over the family company. It wasn’t really on my radar, but…my mother died unexpectedly and my father needed help.” Of course, this was only the abbreviated version of his father’s path to ruthless ambition. Alex’s parents started Echelon Media thirty-five years ago, and with a few failed businesses already under their belt, they worked their asses off to make it successful. Eventually, they expanded and gained momentum, even adding print media to their holdings. Then, right after his mother died, the company almost fell victim to a hostile takeover. Losing his wife and then nearly his company had lit a fire in Devin Sr. to buy up everything they could to ensure Echelon’s legacy…regardless of the constant strain on Alex to keep up. “My father wasn’t dealing well with his grief, so he basically put me at the helm and watched to see if I’d sink or swim.”
“Kind of the way you learned to swim?” Nicola’s voice was gentle.
“Yeah. Kind of like that.”
The waiter arrived with their drinks, so they both stopped talking. Nicola picked up her margarita and took a sip, then she laid her hand down on the table inches from Alex’s. He stared at it. Her nails were unpolished, but still long enough to taper to five perfect points. He watched as she bit
