Rows of sugar cane crowded both sides of the road as far as the eye could see. She pressed the button to lower the window, and stuck out her head to feel the wind on her face. The moon looked enormous, and humidity began to curl the tips of her hair, but she didn’t care. Maybe she needed the breather, especially after sharing the private jet with Lucas for most of the day.
“Enjoying the view?” he asked beside her, but she didn’t bother to answer.
She soaked in the moonshine. By the time she returned to her seat, their sedan had rode through a big entrance of the resort where they’d stay. They drove by beautiful bungalows, and she spotted the enormous wrap-around pool. Though, because of the green sea at the front, she didn’t even know why anyone would bother with a pool.
He asked her to stay in the car while he checked them in. She acquiesced, and within ten minutes he returned with a puzzled look on his face. He communicated the number of a bungalow to the driver, and within seconds they arrived.
Lucas tipped the driver, and retrieved the two pieces of luggage from the trunk. When he opened the door for her, she was already reaching for it. She murmured a “thank you” to the driver, and walked in.
The outside was rustic, but inside the place offered all the amenities anyone would ever want. A huge bed in the middle of the room was the focal point, then part of the floor was glass, where they could see the clear waters of the swimming pool beneath. Petals of red roses shaped a heart on the bed, and a bucket of iced champagne stood on one of the wood nightstands.
She skimmed the rest of the romantic ambience, like the vanity dresser in front of the bed with a huge oval mirror. A shiver rolled down her spine. This was the place where people chose to go on hot honeymoons and anniversaries. She walked up to a door. Maybe it was the connecting bedroom where she’d sleep.
She twisted the handle, and let out a surprised gasp when her gaze met an all-white setting, with a ceramic hot tub and stand-in shower. Another door led to the toilet.
Where the hell was her bedroom? She turned to Lucas. “Something you wanna tell me?”
He scratched his temple. “They messed up the reservation. Oversold suites. There’s a relationship guru giving a workshop in the convention center, which attracted a lot of tourists. So right now this is all they have.”
“Well, we can’t do this. I won’t sleep with you,” she said, her heart racing at the idea of sharing that wickedly large bed with him. Forbidden images of his strong hands on her naked body inundated her mind, but she willed them away, shaking her head.
He let out a sigh, but kept his expression neutral. “I don’t want to sleep with you. I just want to move forward with the plan. The concierge has my name and will let me know if something becomes available as soon as possible.”
“Okay,” she said, her self-preservation keeping her from making more assumptions. He didn’t want to sleep with her, and made that clear. During the time she’d worked for him, he’d never made a pass or harassed her in any way. Lucas could have any woman he wanted. Why would he want her?
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Why did any of this matter? She clung to rationality like a person in quicksand did to a tree branch to keep from slipping into trouble. I don’t want to sleep with you. His words rang in her ears, provoking the opposite effect of what she wanted—or what she thought she wanted…
* * *
Lucas turnedup the water to cold. What the hell was happening to him? Fate must be laughing at his expense by placing him in this predicament—sharing a room with an impossibly hot woman he couldn’t touch.
The resort’s mess-up rubbed him the wrong way. He knew overbookings happened in the hospitality industry, but this one had serious repercussions. Traveling with his assistant and having her help him was one thing. Sleeping under the same roof as her… a lot more complicated.
Especially after he’d seen her without those godawful clothes she wore. The memory of her in that dress from the shop imprinted in his mind, and the previous night he’d touched himself while thinking of her. He turned the water even colder, and splayed his two hands on the tiled wall, letting the water glide down his body. Seconds turned into endless minutes, but the coldness didn’t simmer his desire. Of course this happened simply because he couldn’t touch her. Wouldn’t.
He turned off the tap, and grabbed the towel from the rack. After drying himself, another problem arose. What the hell would he wear to sleep in? At home and during hotel stays, he always slept in the nude, hating the sensation of any constraint on his skin. Because he’d anticipated having his own bedroom, he didn’t pack pajamas. Shit.
“Crystal?” he called, opening the door of the bathroom.
“Yeah?”
He heard her, from the sound she wasn’t too far away. “Can you please turn around? I need to grab fresh clothes in my luggage.”
“Sure.”
If she weren’t his assistant, he’d love to lose his towel and take her to bed. Taste her. But she was, and he’d already crossed the line by asking her to pose as a platonic significant other. If he pressed harder, she’d run and he wouldn’t blame her.
He fetched a couple of items and returned to the bathroom, putting his clothes on quickly. He wouldn’t be comfortable tonight—not by a mile—, but at least he’d look decent.
“What’s that?” She pointed at his jeans and white shirt when he left the bathroom. “Are we going somewhere?”
He sighed. “No.”
“Then why are you dressed like this?”
Damn it. He paced in the room, eyeing the bed as if it were some sworn enemy.
She lifted her eyebrow, hand perched at her waist, a silent warning that she wouldn’t drop the subject. His feet came to a halt, and he swallowed, pushing down the lump of frustration. All this would be highly inappropriate. He usually enjoyed inappropriate, dirty, provocative. Not in this case. Certainly not with his unexpectedly hot assistant. “I usually sleep in the nude, and since I didn’t plan on sharing a room with you, I didn’t bring pajamas.”
