Jocelyn laughed. “Just call me as soon as you have the whole line ready to go,” she said. “Oh, and Elliott, best of luck with the baseball project. It’s going to mean great things for all of us and, honestly, I haven’t seen my husband so excited since...well...” She looked down and tapped her loose-flowing top. “Since we found out some very good news.”
“Oh!” Frankie exclaimed. “Congratulations! You certainly don’t look pregnant.”
“It’s early yet, but we’re very happy, thank you.” She gave Frankie a spontaneous hug and whispered in her ear. “He looks like a keeper.”
Frankie didn’t reply but just said goodbye, her whole body warm from the sun and the encouragement. And the man who couldn’t get much closer.
“So, she loved your soaps, huh?” he asked when Jocelyn went back inside.
She looked up at him, not that unhappy that he helped end the meeting. She wanted to be with him. “She loved your brilliant marketing, too. What’s this about the baseball thing?”
That glorious smile faltered for a second. “Hey, can we walk the beach or are you afraid the slogan’s really a prediction?”
“I’m not afraid of anything except an expertly changed subject to avoid answering.”
He laughed, his easy, breezy, I-can-make-anyone-do-what-I-want laugh that Frankie had already learned to discern from his real laugh. The difference, she’d figured out after many hours with him, was in his eyes. Right now, they might be on her, but something was flat in his gaze.
“No expert anything,” he denied. “You know some of my softball teammates are here. And you know one of them is Nate Ivory.”
“Yes?”
“Well, he hates publicity, as you can imagine.”
“Gets enough of it, though.”
He nudged her out from under the awning and gestured toward the beach. “Kick off your shoes, Frankie.”
And fall in love.
She toed off her sandals, and he did the same to his Docksiders and took her hand as they stepped onto the warm, fine sand.
“So why would Jocelyn’s husband be so excited about you guys being here?”
“He’s a former pro ball player and...” Elliott looked out at the horizon, his voice fading as he seemed to get lost in thought.
“And?” she prompted.
He turned and looked down at her, his expression so serious she drew back. “And...” He swallowed, searching her face, his seriousness growing downright dark.
“What is it, Elliott?”
“And we...” He shook his head. “It’s not important. It’s just some dumb baseball stuff.” Before she could respond, he pulled her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her and dropping a kiss on her hair. “Tell me about your meeting with Jocelyn. Tell me about your plans for the farm. That’s what’s important.”
Closing her eyes, she let the moment wash over her. The sand in her toes, the man in her arms, the lightness in her heart.
“What’s important, huh? You’re awfully philosophical. Did you drink at lunch?”
He laughed. “Busted. One Bloody Mary. You want one?”
She let out a soft moan, her head dropping back at how awesome that sounded. “Yes. Let’s go.” She turned back to the patio restaurant, where her gaze landed on his friends, sitting at a side table, deep in conversation.
“I knew he’d come back,” Elliott muttered, steering her in the opposite direction.
“Don’t you want to join them? They’re looking right at us.”
“Let them. Come on, I have a better idea.” He rounded the deck, scooped up their shoes and led her to the back of the resort to the shaded, paved road that ran from the hotel to each of the private villas.
At the main entrance, he snagged a golf cart, offered a hand to help her up, and drove away toward his villa, uncharacteristically silent.
He definitely didn’t want her talking to his friends.
“Are you really worried that I might be attracted to Nathaniel Ivory?” she asked, not sure what to make of that character trait if it were true.
“No,” he said simply, his jaw set in a way she wasn’t sure she’d seen before.
Without asking what was wrong, she hung on as the cart rumbled past picturesque villas, each tucked into their own tropical gardens. Some had front verandas that faced the bay with completely private pools in the back. Others were situated so that their elevated pools offered bay views. All of them were gorgeous, including the last one, Rockrose.
He turned to her, not climbing out of the golf cart. “Come inside with me so we can talk.”
Talk? They’d been talking for days. “Okay,” she said, leaning closer. “If you want to talk.” She kissed him lightly. “But I’m kinda talked out today.”
He fought a smile, a battle waging in his eyes, but still she couldn’t figure out why he seemed so conflicted. She was practically inviting herself into his bed.
“We can talk, too,” he said.
She smiled and lifted a shoulder. “Whatever you want.” She started to slide her leg out of the cart, but he gripped her arm, holding her there.
“Francesca.”
Her heart slipped around, helpless, as it always did, when he used her full name.
“I really like you,” he said.
“I really like you, too.”
“No, I mean...” He exhaled, frustration oozing off him. “I want to talk and tell you...”
“Hey.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close, putting her lips right over his ear. “I got a bag full of sweet-smelling cotton balls that I need you to name.”
He grinned. “If that’s not the sexiest offer I’ve ever had, then I don’t know what is.”
“This.” She covered his mouth with a kiss, as hard and hot and sincere as she could make it, and he melted almost immediately. At least, his strange arguments melted. Nothing else melted.
Only her heart when he scooped her up and carried her inside, refusing to put her down or end the kiss until she was lying on his bed, breathless and ready for him.
Chapter Ten
What the hell was wrong with him? Elliott’s body was ready—so, so damn hard and ready—but something in his chest, probably in the vicinity of his heart or, worse, his soul, wouldn’t make a move. Instead, Elliott slowly sat on the giant king-size bed.
“So, where are these fragrances?” he asked.