“Trust me,” he repeated.
She was stuck. He was going to force her to ride in that dinky tin can. Grimacing, she pulled her hands free. “On three conditions. A, if I absolutely hate it you let me fly home on a regular plane. B, no fancy acrobatics. And C, I don’t want to hear anything about the mile-high club. Not one word.”
He grinned. “Deal. Now climb in.”
He handed her into a compartment barely four feet high and wide. There were two leather bucket seats in the cabin and two more up front. She squeezed between the front seats and groaned as she sank into the one on the right. She was surrounded by glass, and she’d be able to see exactly how high they were off the ground. She buckled her seat belt. Tight.
She couldn’t believe her father had flown for a living. Flying hadn’t just been his job, it had been his passion.
Ten minutes later Adam eased his long frame in beside her. She gripped the armrests and watched him prepare for flight. Headset. Buttons. Dozens of them. And the she noticed the twin screens on the dash. One was GPS. She couldn’t identify the other one. The propeller started, vibrating the plane.
He leaned over and pushed a headset over her hair. “Can you hear me now?”
He winked. Her stomach knotted. She closed her eyes.
Minutes passed while Adam communicated with the tower in the take-charge voice he used at work. She occupied herself with mental math. How much interest would a million dollars paid in twenty-four installments net over five years, ten, by retirement age?
The plane moved forward, bouncing gently down the runway before gathering speed and lifting off. She knew the exact second they left the ground. Squeezing her eyes closed, she tightened her grip on the armrests.
Moments later Adam’s hand covered hers. “You can look now.”
She eased open one eye and saw blue sky. She opened the other and risked looking down. Her stomach contents didn’t rush to her throat. If anything, she wanted to see more and leaned closer to the window to do so. She could even identify some of the landmarks.
“The water’s so green.”
“Beautiful, isn’t it? Same color as your eyes.”
She snapped her head toward him and met his gaze. Forget it. He’s a natural-born charmer. Compliments come as easily to him as breathing. But knowing the truth didn’t lessen the impact of his words. “Thank you.”
“Want to fly over the club and the estate before we head east?”
She considered it, realized she didn’t feel the least bit sick and nodded. “Yes. I’d like that.”
He didn’t have to be nice. He had her where he wanted her, had her contracted to do exactly as he wished.
But it touched her that he made an effort.
Like a deer trapped in the headlights, Adam couldn’t turn away from the view outside the window.
Mouthwatering curves. Amazing legs.
Cassie said something to Lauryn as the women walked toward the trunk of Cassie’s car and Lauryn looked up at the cottage. Her gaze collided with his and the air dammed in his lungs.
She’s beautiful. How had he missed that?
The raw material had to have been there because there was no way Lauryn could have worked major miracles in the five hours since Cassie had met their plane at the Nassau airport and whisked Lauryn away for an afternoon of shopping and…whatever. Adam had been more than happy to dodge that bullet by picking up the car Garrison, Inc. kept on the island and driving it and their luggage to the house.
Cassie hauled a number of shopping bags from the trunk and passed them to Lauryn. Adam snapped out of his trance and headed for the door. His legs felt rubbery as he jogged down the stairs. He blamed it on the blood drawn at his doctor’s this morning and knew he lied.
He stopped beside the women. Adrenaline pulsed through his veins making him hyperaware of his bride-to-be. Sunlight gleamed off the hair streaming over Lauryn’s shoulders. He’d never seen her hair down, and the urge to test the texture of the champagne-gold strands nearly overwhelmed him.
Thick lashes surrounded her sea-green eyes and a shell-pink gloss coated her lips. The breeze carried her incredible scent.
“Hello again, Adam.”
He heard the smile in Cassie’s voice and forced his stunned gaze from Lauryn to his grinning half sister. She seemed to be enjoying his stupefaction. “Thanks for helping, Cassie.”
“My pleasure. So what do you think?”
His gaze devoured Lauryn from her satiny hair to her pink-painted toenails. He couldn’t begin to put his thoughts into words. How had he ever believed her plain? Had he been so self-absorbed he’d missed the prize right in front of his face?
Apparently so.
“This cottage is one of my favorites,” Cassie continued.
He jerked his attention back to his half sister. She meant the beach house? “It’s very nice. Comfortable. Private.”
“Excellent. I have to run. I have a hot date tonight with your best man. See you tomorrow.”
“Bye, Cassie, and thanks again,” Lauryn called out as Cassie climbed in her car.
“You’re welcome. I had fun.”
Adam watched the car pull away and then took another long look at Lauryn. He cursed the months of celibacy since his father’s death. Despite what the tabloids said, Adam hadn’t been in the mood to let anyone get close lately—not even physically. As peeved as he was with his father for refusing to acknowledge his accomplishments even after death, Adam still missed the old man.
Bags rattled as Lauryn shifted in her high-heeled sandals—sandals that made her legs look endless.
“Let me have those.” He relieved her of her load, carried the loot inside to the room he’d chosen for her and dumped the bags on her bed. There were fewer bags than he’d expected. He’d expected her to try to bankrupt him.
Lauryn entered behind him. She scanned the space and then crossed the tile floor to peek into the luxurious bathroom. Her heels added a hypnotizing sway to her h*ps that he hadn’t noticed before.
Her conservative clothing didn’t scream “do me” like so many of Estate’s patrons did. But there was a subtle sexiness in the way her new sundress skimmed her curves that yanked his awakened libido like an angler setting his hook.
Last night’s kiss at the restaurant had rocked him with a tsunami of unexpected hunger. The one at the airport this morning had rocked him, too. And that was before he’d seen his soon-to-be wife looking like this.
He wanted her. Need pulsed in his gut. But he’d promised to abide by her no-sex rule until she said otherwise.
And dammit, he prided himself on being a man of his word.
That didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to change her mind. But not until after the wedding. Judging by the wariness in her eyes if he tried to seduce her tonight he’d be missing a fiancée before the ceremony tomorrow.
“My bedroom’s across the den.” Desire roughened his voice.
“Okay.” She looked and sounded relieved.
If he wanted to sleep better tonight than he had last night he needed to get out of this room, out of this house before he started picturing Lauryn wearing nothing but sleek, wet skin and a dusting of bubbles in that whirlpool tub. With him beside or beneath her.
Too late. He stifled a groan.
“Where are your glasses?” he asked in an attempt to sideline his illicit thoughts.
White teeth pinched her bottom lip and she wrinkled her nose. She looked so damned adorably guilty he almost whimpered. “I…um, don’t really need them.”
“Why in the hell did you hide behind shapeless clothing and ugly glasses?” It made no sense. The women he knew flaunted their assets. Hell, they paid good money to have bigger, better assets implanted.
“I learned not to draw attention to my looks a long time ago. Men assume if you’re pretty, you’re stupid and available.”
“And you aren’t available?” He knew she wasn’t stupid.
“Not at the moment.”
Her flip response stirred something unfamiliar in him. Possessiveness? No. Determination to make sure this plan worked. He couldn’t afford slip-ups if he wanted the council and his brothers to believe he’d fallen for his straightlaced accountant and settled down. “And you won’t be until after we’re divorced.”
“That won’t be a problem.”
The certainty in her tone raised red flags. Holy hell, was she gay? Did that explain why no one had seen her on a date? South Beach had a large g*y population. Was that the real reason she’d moved to Florida? Because her story about her father had seemed a lame reason to move three thousand miles.
No, Lauryn couldn’t be gay. He hadn’t imagined the attraction between them or the hunger in her eyes. He’d felt the softening of her lips beneath his when he’d kissed her, and he’d heard her breath catch each time he’d touched her.
He wanted to kiss her now. To prove his theory.
But he wouldn’t. Not yet.
Even though his neglected hormones had him in a tailspin.
Forget the candles, flowers and prepared meals he’d asked Cassie to arrange so he and Lauryn could play out the love-birds-needing-privacy farce. He couldn’t handle a romantic dinner on the deck tonight. He needed crowds. Loud music. A noisy restaurant. Distractions. Anything but an intimate dinner for two.
“We’re eating out tonight. Be ready in ten.”
Lauryn’s brow creased. “Cassie said she’d filled the refrigerator with local dishes for us.”
Damn. He’d hoped his half sister had neglected to mention that detail. “She did.”
Lauryn swept back her champagne locks with a newly manicured hand tipped in pearl-pink polish. The muscles of Adam’s abdomen ripped as if she’d scraped those short nails across his flesh.
“Adam, I’d rather postpone the whole putting-on-a-show-for-the-locals thing, if you don’t mind. I know we have to eventually, but it’s our first night here and I’m kind of whipped. Cassie is a shopping machine. Surely if anyone is paying attention to our itinerary they’d expect us to want to be alone sometimes?”
Now that she mentioned it, he could see her fatigue in the faint shadows beneath her eyes and the slight downward turn of her mouth.
For sanity’s sake he should be a bastard and insist on going out, but instead he ground his teeth on a frustrated curse.
It was going to be a long night.
“Pick whatever you want to eat and shove it in the microwave. I’m going for a run. I’ll be back in an hour.”
And then Adam did something he’d never done before.
He ran from a woman.
Five
Thursday. Her wedding day.
Lauryn had never been claustrophobic before, but she was getting there fast. The walls of the spacious oceanfront bedroom seemed to close in around her as the clock inched toward the time set for the ceremony. Her pulse raced and her mouth felt as dry and gritty as the sand dunes outside the cottage.
The silk chiffon of her strapless ivory tea-length dress fluttered against her shins as she paced from the window to the door and back, again and again, and the lace bolero jacket abraded her neck and shoulders. Since the ceremony would take place on the beach she’d decided against wearing shoes, and the floor tiles further chilled her already cold bare feet.