He grinned. C.J. and Merrilee. He had to admit, they’d make a handsome couple. But Tony had never pictured C.J. as the type to sneak around, wooing a woman by playing the secret admirer. There was a history there, and he wondered what the story was. Even more, he hoped C.J. knew what he was doing. He’d hate to see the pilot lose his chance at happiness with the woman he loved.
He pulled the patch out of the back pocket of his jeans and slipped it on. C.J. was right—it was hard to know when to share a secret. Usually. In Tony’s case, though, the answer was clear—never.
Kyra had a friend in Tony, a lover in Michael, and a fiancé waiting in Texas. And although he was impressed as hell at her commitment to her dad, he wanted to tell her—beg her—to live her life for herself. Maybe he couldn’t be part of that life, but he still wanted her to be happy. And sacrificing herself to a man she didn’t really love out of some sense of familial obligation was a recipe for unhappiness.
But he stayed quiet. He was her friend, not her lover. Not really. And if he kept his mouth shut, after this week, maybe they could stay friends. But if he told her the truth, if he risked her marriage and her future simply to satisfy his own ego… Well, what the hell couldhe do? He couldn’t help her. Couldn’t save her business, couldn’t cure her father, couldn’t do any damn thing for anybody.
In the end, he’d lose everything. And even more importantly, he’d destroy her fantasy. And Tony wasn’t about to do anything to hurt Kyra. No matter how much doing nothing ripped at his gut.
* * *
HE WASN’T COMING. She should pack it in and head back to her cabana. Hanging around the party was foolish. Fantasy or not, Kyra had no intention of hooking up with any man other than Michael. And if Michael had no interest in her…well, she’d packed a few good romance novels. She’d take a long, hot bath and lose herself in someone else’s fantasy.
“Buy you a drink?”
She turned, ending up face-to-face with Joe from the scuba class.
“Kyra, right?”
She nodded, her feet itching to move her far, far away, but the rest of her succumbing to good, old-fashioned Southern manners. Damn Texas upbringing.
He glanced at her now empty drink. “Hitting the good stuff early, huh? Kevin makes a great Razz.” He lifted two fingers. “Another Razzmatazz for the lady and a shot of tequila with a beer chaser for me.”
She cringed, wondering if she’d taken a wrong turn and ended up at a frat party. “No thanks, really. I’ve had plenty. Just water.”
He sidled closer and slid an arm around her shoulder. “Come on, baby. You spent the entire day with that reject from the sci-fi channel. Spend a little time with me.”
“Get your hands off me,” she said through gritted teeth. She tried to shrug out of his embrace, but he just pulled her closer, leaning down so that she caught the unmistakable stench of far too many tequila shots.
“What’s the matter, baby? Don’t you want to play doctor?”
“Not with you.” She jammed her knee up, catching him where it counts. His arm flew from her shoulder, and his hands flew to his fly, cupping everything he held dear. “Now get the hell away from me.”
Bent at the waist and cursing, he still managed to shoot her a withering look. She held his stare until he finally turned and left. “Jerk,” she whispered under her breath.
“You’re going to put me out of a job.”
The low, smooth voice teased her senses, bringing her back to life. She hadn’t even realized the sadness she’d felt until his voice washed it away, and she whirled around, sure she was smiling broader than a kid at Christmas.
“How am I supposed to keep up my rep as a chivalrous knight if the damsels rescue themselves?”
“Michael.” He was right there, right in front of her. Tall and dark and she wanted nothing more than to throw herself into his arms and erase the memory ofJoe. “I didn’t think you were going to come.” She pressed her lips together, fighting back a ridiculous flood of tears.
The corner of his mouth twitched up, and he brushed the pad of his thumb under her eye. “I wasn’t going to.”
Frowning, she wiped her eyes. “I’m not really crying. It’s just an optical illusion. Stress. That guy. Hormones.” She shrugged. “I don’t know. But I’m not really crying. Not really.”
Laughing, he slid an arm around her waist. “I didn’t think you were.”
She leaned in, immediately at home in his arms. She sniffled again. “Why weren’t you going to come?”
He kissed her neck, leading her away from the main pool. “A guy could get attached to a woman like you. And getting attached is the last thing a guy like me needs,” he said. “But then I asked myself what was worse—leaving you at the end of a fantastic week together, or not seeing you again.”
“An attachment is the last thingeitherof us needs,” she said, trying to drill the truth into her head. She didn’t want or need attachments, strings or emotional involvement. Still, that little voice in her head told her it was too late.
In the end, she’d walk away because she had to—but it was going to hurt like hell.
* * *
