His grin falters for a beat, then he leans closer, voice dropping. ‘If I’d stayed, we’d have run out of condoms, and I’d have probably impregnated you, and forgive me but the only person I want calling me daddy is you.’
My laugh escapes before I can stop it. ‘You’re insufferable.’
‘Yes,’ he muses. ‘You really seemed to be suffering last night.’ He drops his hand to my bare thigh and strokes fleetingly. ‘Either that or you’re an exceptionally talented actress.’
My core quivers as the memories hit me in high definition. I force them away, finish my drink and push back from the table. ‘You’ll never know.’ I wink. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me, I really do need that shower.’
He straightens, eyes glinting like the last sliver of sunset on the water. ‘Careful, Irish. You keep walking away from me like that, and one of these days, I will run after you. And God help you when I catch you.’
‘Promises, promises, California.’ I walk away, swaying my hips deliberately as his eyes sear my skin.
‘Treat them mean, keep them keen, right?’ I mutter breezily to Tate, who’s fallen into step beside me, clutching my beach bag under his bicep.
‘Careful with him, Zara,’ he warns, caution hanging on his every word. ‘He has this ruthless glint in his eyes. It’s concerning.’
‘It’s debilitating more like. Man, last night was…’
Tate raises his hand, silently asking me to shut up. ‘I don’t need those kind of details. Call it plausible deniability if your brothers ever found out I aided and abetted your sex scandal.’
‘Ha! It’s not a scandal unless they find out. Besides, it’s not as if they haven’t been involved in their own fair share of scandals. I’m a million miles away from Dublin, having consensual sex with a man who I will never have to see again after we leave. It’s not as if he’s going to sell sordid stories to the press about me. Relax. We’re on holiday. It’s just a bit of fun.’
We cross the resort and reach the door of my suite. It’s open. Weird. Tate frowns and motions for me to stay back as he places a hand on the ever present gun in his pocket. I hold my breath as he enters the suite, then exhale it again when he returns almost immediately.
‘Room service.’ A smartly dressed waiter exits the suite.
‘I didn’t order room service.’ My forehead creases.
‘Perhaps someone ordered it for you.’
I thank the waiter as he passes by, then step inside the Coral Reef Suite. A bottle of Dom Pérignon Rosé Vintage sits chilling in a bucket of ice. A tiny note embossed with the hotel’s crest rests on the table beside it.
I warned you one night would never beenough. Meet me in the main bar when you’re ready.
Oh, he is good.
Bossy, demanding, presumptuous.
But yeah, kudos where it’s due. He’s a fucking professional.
Chapter Twelve
COLE
No woman has ever walked away from me before. I’m not sure if I’m impressed or irritated. Both perhaps, but admittedly, it’s refreshing to have to work for it. To flirt with a woman who has no idea who I am, no idea of my bank balance, and no idea of the influence I possess.
Refreshing… andfucking frustrating, given it’s been hours since she vanished for that shower and there’s still no sign of her.
I drag my gaze around the hotel bar for the hundredth time. Towering palm fronds arch over polished coral-stone floors. Carefully positioned lanterns cast warm amber light across marble-topped tables. The backlit liquor display throws a soft pink glow over the room from rows of top-shelf rum and imported champagne. This bar is the kind of place where people come to be seen.
Except the only person I’m looking for isn’t here.
I take another slow sip of my drink. Tension lines my shoulders. Disappointment seeps into my blood—not just because I want her in my bed—though I definitely fucking do.
It’s something else.
Something more.
I want to watch the way she smirks when she spouts one of her witty one-liners.
