The memory of our kiss makes my belly tighten. I press my knees together, but it’s not enough to ease the ache. I should be relieved that he’s staying away.
I use the black pen to fill the page until my pulse returns to normal. I’d intended to sketch the sandy horizon, but one line curved into another until a pair of familiar lips smirks at me from the page.
The knot tightens, and I bite my bottom lip.
It was just a kiss.
I toss the notepad and pen onto the small wicker table that holds an empty whiskey glass Owen must have discarded after I went to bed last night.
I blush.
I hope he didn’t hear me.
I slip on my sunglasses and close my eyes, but that just brings back the memory of what I did last night in high definition.
“You are very talented.”
Owen’s tone is a little rough from talking on the phone for hours, but the added huskiness works for him.
I open my eyes to see him standing in front of me, sketch in his hand and the constant playful look replaced by admiration.
I squirm uncomfortably. Eloise has been the only person to see my artwork. My father made it clear that myhobbywas a distraction from business school.
Or, more likely, too much of a reminder of my mother. “It’s just something I do for fun.”
“You draw like it’s a passion. Is art what you want to pursue for a career?”
Hearing my secret desire spoken out loud adds to the weight of the family obligations hanging on my shoulders. Eloise may have agreed to marry to help our father keep his business, but I am expected to take over and keep it in the family. “I’m doing one class for fun. Business is my major.”
And Eloise’s. At least I don’t have to lie about that.
“You’ll be taking over your father’s business?”
I nod.
A thin line forms between his brows. “Is that what you want?”
Eloise and I grew up knowing that our futures involved business school and keeping our father’s boutique hotel chain in the family. “It’s always been the plan.”
“Your plan?”
I hesitate for a moment. I want to say yes, but that would be a lie, and I don’t want to add another one to my record. “My father’s.”
“Does he make all of your choices for you?”
His question hits a nerve I’ve always ignored to keep the peace. It’s easier to go along with my father’s plans and Eloise’s wild ideas than make them understand that I have wants and desires too.
My thumb finds the edge of the wedding band and spins it, my brows pulling together and my lips tightening. He’s acting self-righteous while doing the same thing—taking away choices. “Do you buy wives in all your business deals?”
His grin is back.
My stomach grumbles, distracting us both.
“Get cleaned up and I’ll order a car to take us to dinner.”
I wait for him to walk inside first. Instead, he stands there, hands in his pockets, watching me.
When I’d put on Eloise’s bikini, I hadn’t worried about the string masquerading as the fabric that was supposed to cover my ass because I’d tied a sarong around my waist.
