Читать книгу From Ex to Eternity - Kat Cantrell - Страница 8

Three

“What do you mean the flight was canceled?” Cara dropped to the bed and flung both shoes at the wall. Since she was a lover not a pitcher, her Louboutins clunked to the carpet well short of the intended target. Just as everything else she’d attempted to do since landing on this island impersonating paradise.

Meredith pushed a couple of buttons on the coffee brewer—her second pot of the day. “C-A-N-C—”

“I know how to spell canceled, smart aleck. Why is the flight canceled?”

Her sister shrugged. “Mechanical failure. Pilot’s strike. Lost in the Bermuda Triangle. Take your pick. Does it matter? You can wear the dress in the show and I’ll run things backstage. People will love the designer taking the runway. Stop freaking out.”

“I have to freak out. It’s what I do.” Cara had already sent Jackie home and the replacement model should have landed at Providenciales Airport an hour ago. Except her flight out of JFK was canceled.

“Let Keith bring you that bottle of wine he offered. You need to relax.”

“One day, I’ll learn to stop repeating my conversations to you verbatim.” Cara scowled and rubbed her ankle, which was not fine despite all her insistence to that man. Mentally, she scrolled through her shoe inventory and gave up. Except for her jogging shoes, she’d brought nothing less than three-and-a-half-inch heels. She might not even own anything less than three. “I have no interest in being anywhere near Keith.”

“I’ll drink it then. The bottle he sent last night was not bad.”

Cara wouldn’t know. She’d refused to let one drop grace her lips. “You can fantasize about him, too, if you want. Or sleep with him. I don’t care.”

Meredith jerked to a halt, halfway across the room. “Oh, honey. I had no idea you still had feelings for him. Don’t clue him in just yet, okay? Make him work for it.”

“I don’t still have feelings for him!” Cara fell face-first into the raw-silk comforter. Such a vehement denial probably didn’t help her case any. Rolling, she stared at the ceiling.

Mad, she had plenty of. Summoning it up took no effort at all.

She frowned when it didn’t happen. Well, hell. She might not be as pissed as she used to be, not anymore. He’d been so weird in the elevator after she’d laid into him about being such a sleaze. Weird and speechless, and Keith didn’t usually do speechless. He always had words at the tip of his tongue.

That’s how she knew he’d told the truth about why he left. And she should have told him about the miscarriage right then and there in her dressing room, regardless of how upset and disoriented she’d been. They’d both made mistakes—his obviously being a lot more flagrant and inexcusable—but it was over with and she had a job to do.

Cara sat up. “I have alterations and so do you. Thanks for being a pit bull earlier and I really appreciated the shark warning, but nothing is going to happen with Keith. In fact, the name Keith Mitchell is henceforth banned from being said. Keith Mitchell is like Voldemort to you.”

“Creepy on the outside but looks like Ralph Fiennes underneath and has a delish accent?” Meredith waggled her brows.

“Shut up. I’m doing my alterations on the beach. The waves are relaxing, aren’t they?” Cara gathered her sewing kit and folded the dress into a bag while Meredith snickered through dumping half a sugar refinery into her coffee.

“Then I’m doing my alterations at the pool. Maybe Paolo will be back, now that your boyfriend’s not there to scare him off. Don’t wait up,” Meredith called after Cara as she exited their hotel room.

The beach was deserted. Everyone currently staying at the resort had a behind-the-scenes role in the bridal expo. The real guests were the wedding professionals who would arrive for the grand opening at the end of the week and then attend the expo featuring the latest wedding trends.

Cara had her pick of beach loungers and arranged a plastic tarp over several to lay out the dress, careful to keep it away from the sand, though the entire expo would take place on the beach. Sand was inevitable. The alterations weren’t extensive but she’d handmade all her dresses and every stitch had to be redone carefully. No sewing machine quick fixes for Cara Chandler-Harris Designs.

If the bridal expo worked to increase business as she planned, sewing machines would be a necessary part of her future. Standing orders meant she couldn’t take a month to make one dress any longer. Cara threaded a needle and reminded herself she welcomed the influx of business and the opportunity, though Meredith had to convince her of it daily.

This was Cara’s life now. She stabbed the needle through the silk spread out over her lap. Weddings were for other women, not her, regardless of how much she wished otherwise. Cara couldn’t imagine trusting a man enough to fall in love, let alone marry him. Every day, she expected to wake up and realize she’d gotten over her caution.

Hadn’t happened yet. Until then, she’d sew. The surf crashed a few feet away and the cry of gulls floated on a light afternoon breeze. Her life did not suck. She’d found a way to be content instead of deliriously happy, and it was enough.

Sometime later, a shadow fell over the tiny new stitches. Cara glanced up and cursed her stupid quivery heart for lurching even a little bit over the sight of Keith. But sweet Jesus did that man fill out a suit, and he had charm and wit to spare. Once upon a time, she’d thoroughly enjoyed his company.

“Busy?” he asked.

“Nah. I’m working on my tan.”

“Sorry, that was a stupid question.” He sat without invitation on the next lounger, their knees nearly touching, and his eyes trained on her bare feet. “Is your ankle still bothering you?”

“Geez. That was a lame excuse to talk to me the first twelve times. What’s really going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

He grinned and her polarized sunglasses did nothing to protect her from the dazzle. “Do I need an excuse to talk to you?”

“No, you need to take a number. Can’t you see how popular I am?” She waved at the empty beach. “Sandals and sand don’t mix, ironically enough. That’s why I’m barefoot. Stop asking me about my ankle.”

Weakness in any form bothered her, especially around Keith, who could scent weakness with the precision of a homing device. Meredith’s shark scenario was sweet, but ineffective. Sharks never ate their own kind.

She sighed. Keith wasn’t quite the heartless bastard she’d been telling herself for two years. She’d have to stop thinking of him as one.

“Then I’ll go with a different excuse. Have dinner with me.”

She couldn’t help it. Laughter bubbled out before she could choke it back. “No, really. What do you want?”

“That is what I want. But in lieu of that, I’ll settle for your advice. The resort wedding coordinator quit with no notice. Her first task was to organize a mock wedding for the expo, and it’s in shambles. Is there any way you could walk through the plans with one of the management staff?”

She stared at Keith’s inscrutable expression. “You want my help?”

“Desperately and I’m not afraid to beg. I’d compensate you for your time.”

Her soul thrilled a little at the thought of a big bucket of masculinity like Keith on his knees, begging. She was five-eight, but even in heels, she never got to be taller than him.

“Money’s not the object of my hesitation. It’s more that you’re asking me for a favor.” That brought her up short. He’d owe her. Big-time. And she’d already started thinking of ways to collect, starting with a brand-new fantasy involving Keith and his knees. “Why would you ask me, out of all the people here?”

“Because you’ve planned a wedding.”

“That’s rich, Mitchell. How convenient.”

“It’s not a matter of convenience. I’ve seen what you can do, and no one else could possibly hope to meet my standards. Except you.” Those caramel eyes were on hers, all melty and scrumptious and saying far more than his mouth did.

“So now my ability to plan a wedding is a hot commodity. As I recall, you weren’t so keen on it before.” She waited for the sting of anger, but it had really and truly fled, dang it. When she’d told him she’d forgiven him in the elevator, it had mostly been because she couldn’t resist being contrary, but it seemed to have stuck.

And he wanted her help with wedding planning. Nothing got her more excited. Well, almost nothing.

“I can’t redo the past. But I can make it up to you now. Name it. Your wish is my command.” His scalding gaze rested on her feet again and her toes tingled. She dug them down into the sand where he couldn’t see them.

“Don’t worry about it.” She had absolutely zero desire to find out how he intended to make it up to her. Okay, maybe ten percent desire, but strictly out of curiosity. “I’ll help you, but I’ll be very demanding and difficult to work with.”

His knee swung closer to hers, grazing it as he leaned forward. “Which is no less than I expect. Thanks.”

Her breath caught. Of all things, Keith’s knee was turning her insides flippy, way down low where all the really neglected parts had throbbed to life. “When do you need me?”

“Right now.” That caramel gaze boiled over with searing intensity, holding her captive.

Heat blazed, nearly singeing her uncovered skin. The covered places were pretty hot too and straining to be free of their confines. “You can have me for an hour. Is that long enough?”

“I can accomplish plenty with you in an hour.”

Her tongue came out to wet parched lips, and every nerve was screaming to feel his mouth against them instead. “We’re still talking about the same thing, right?”

He held out a hand and God above, she was afraid to take it. But she did. He drew her forward, oh so slowly, into his space, where it smelled like ocean and Keith. “I sincerely hope so.”

“Great,” she croaked and jerked back out of the danger zone. “Let me put my dress in the room and grab my shoes. I’ll meet your staff member at the front desk.”

“I’ll tell her to expect you.” He let her pull away, never breaking eye contact as their flesh separated. “And Cara? You and I both know that’s not what we were talking about.”

She fled before her neglected parts overruled her brain.

By the time she reached her room, she was breathless and mad at herself.

So Keith was hot and really, really, really good at making her body hum. Everything down there needed to shut up. This wasn’t a vacation and they both had a lot of work to do. Plus, he scared the crap out of her. She’d been down that path and it was not lined with primrose.

The man had serious commitment issues. Her heart wasn’t up for another beating, and she could never have a casual tropical island fling with Keith Mitchell. Not then, not now. They were total opposites in that regard. He wasn’t interested in long-term. She was.

Besides, Keith had superhero sperm, capable of leaping tall birth control methods. She wasn’t even on the pill this time. Abstinence was the only method guaranteed to work.

The reasons for steering clear were piled so high, she couldn’t see over them even if she put on a pair of ten-inch heels.

Meredith was gone, thank goodness. Cara so did not want to have another conversation about he-who-must-not-be-named, and on top of that, her sister could read her like an instruction manual. Cara was genuinely afraid of what must be written all over her face—her runaway groom admitted he needed her and praised her wedding-planning efforts at the same time.

That flipped her insides much more powerfully than any heated gaze Keith could shoot in her direction.

* * *

Keith waited for Cara at the front desk and shot off some emails so he didn’t look like a lovesick teenager hanging out in hopes of accidentally running into the object of his affection. Of course, the things he wanted to do to Cara had a decidedly adult theme. All that heat on the beach had definitely not been one-sided, but she apparently planned to pretend otherwise.

He didn’t. This expo would get 100 percent of his attention during working hours, but there was nothing wrong with some after-hours relaxation with an old flame, was there?

Clacking heels announced Cara’s arrival, but his Y chromosome had scented her the moment she stepped through the lobby doors. That peach outfit hadn’t grown any less mouthwatering as the day wore on, and the sea breeze had teased her hair into a tumbled mess his fingers strained to dive into.

The rest of the lobby vanished. All he could see was Cara.

“I’m here,” she said.

Yes, she was. There must be something in the salt air because the first time they’d been together, being in her presence did not drive him batty. Chemistry, they had, but he’d always been able to focus when she wasn’t around. Now? Not so much.

And when she was around...well, he was allowing her to be so much of a distraction, he should hand in his resignation to Regent before the sun set.

Or he could get his mind out of Cara’s cleavage and act like the professional he’d insisted she be. Thus far, he’d been the one who’d devolved.

The resort’s assistant manager, a native islander who’d been working in local resorts for fifteen years, came around from behind the front desk for an introduction. “Mary Kwane, this is Cara,” Keith said. “Mary is filling in until we can hire another wedding coordinator.”

Mary sized up Cara and offered her hand. “What are your qualifications?”

Cara shook the other woman’s hand and smiled. “I planned a wedding in two months.”

“How many guests?” Mary didn’t mince words but her work ethic was unparalleled. He hired only the best.

“Five hundred, with two venues and two different themes.”

Keith did a double take. Really? Conceptualizing two separate themes was ridiculous, but he eyed Cara with new respect, nonetheless, because she’d also done it while pregnant. Without his help.

Then, because of him, she hadn’t gotten to enjoy any of it. His stomach rolled. He’d given lip service to making it up to her, but that wasn’t actually possible. Yet she’d let it go, as if he’d done nothing more serious than misplace her favorite earrings.

“I’ll leave the two of you to it,” he said and escaped.

Keith met with Elena so he and the resort manager could formulate a plan to fill the vacant wedding coordinator position and then he spent an hour alone in his office buried in procurement paperwork. In the next room, Alice and a couple of additional team members slashed through the pages-long to-do list, communicating their progress via chat windows. Keith glanced through the updates periodically while he pretended not to be dwelling on Cara.

Probably he should forget about how gorgeous and tantalizing and challenging she was. He’d done nothing to reconcile his screwup, and her back-off sign couldn’t be any larger.

A reminder beeped on his phone but he didn’t need it. Today was his mom’s birthday and with the time difference between here and Miami, he should catch her before she started preparing for an evening on the town. His father escorted her to the opera and dinner every year like clockwork.

She picked up on the forth ring.

“Hi, Mom. Happy birthday.”

“Keith. How nice of you to call,” she said coolly as if he never called, which was patently false. “Are you enjoying Turks and Caicos? I prefer Bali this time of year but Grace Bay is satisfactory for a weekend getaway, I suppose.”

Cara is here, Mom. At the resort. Yes, she’s still a knockout but different, too. Unexpectedly so. I have no idea what to do about her.

“I’m working,” Keith said. “I’m not on vacation.”

Mitchells didn’t work; they made money as passively as possible. Neither of his parents understood his drive to break family tradition and actually get his hands dirty. The most immersing activity his dad had done in the past twenty years was browse through the prospectus of the multibillion-dollar portfolio he’d amassed as a hedge fund manager. Following in his father’s footsteps was about as attractive to Keith as sucking up Florida swamp water with a straw.