by Nina Singh
She had to laugh at that. If he only knew... “I apologize for my rudeness. I would love to join you for a drink with your sister and future brother-in-law.” She bowed slightly for effect.
“That’s more like it,” he teased.
After Tori ran into a nearby restroom to throw some cold water on her sweaty face and tidy her frazzled hair, she met Clay where he waited at a high-top table in the far corner of the tavern.
She approached just as his phone dinged with a text.
“Good thing I didn’t wait for them to order,” he said as he read the message.
“What’s going on?”
He held up the phone for her. “My sister informs me that they’ve run into a delay and are running late to meet us.”
Tori could think of all sorts of reasons why a bride and groom might run into a delay after stopping in their hotel room. But she figured Clay probably didn’t want to think about that, being the bride’s brother and all.
A server appeared with a sweaty bottle of beer and a full, frosty glass of white wine.
“I figured you’d want something cold and ordered you a chardonnay. We can send it back if you’d like something else.”
“This is perfect. Thank you.” In fact, her mouth was watering for a taste of refreshment. It had gotten quite hot out there on the court. By the third game, she’d felt like a sweaty mess with frizzy, tangled hair.
Clay, by contrast, had managed to appear impeccable throughout the whole match, even with beads of sweat rolling down his cheeks and glistening along his arms.
Another text alert sounded on his phone and Tori could guess what it said.
Clay confirmed her assumptions. “Gemma again. They’ve decided to bag it altogether. They won’t be joining us, after all.”
He lifted his glass to her in a mini salute. “Looks like it’s just you and me.”
* * *
He noticed something that might be described as alarm flickered behind Tori’s eyes. She recovered quickly, however, saying, “That’s too bad. I wanted to talk to them some more about their cake.”
Did that explain why she’d looked so alarmed when she’d heard Gemma and Tom wouldn’t be joining them, after all? Or was it something else?
Clay couldn’t deny there seemed to be an undercurrent between them. Almost like an ethereal crackling in the air. Was Tori aware of it, too? Maybe it was all in his head.
He studied her as she took a small sip of her wine. She was still flushed from their game. Already, her skin had developed a slight tan. Her lips were moist from the chilled wine.
Another thing he couldn’t deny was how attracted he was to her. She possessed an underlying strength that seemed at odds with her sweet and soft demeanor. The contrast called to him in a way he couldn’t recall ever experiencing before.
The problem was, he had no business thinking about any of this. And he’d certainly had no business pulling her into his arms and holding her close the way he had on the tennis court. Heaven help him, all he’d wanted to do after putting her back on her feet was to lift her chin, pull her face to his and take those tempting, full lips with his own. And he might have done just that if they’d been alone. Thank goodness they hadn’t been.
He was much too damaged for a woman the likes of Victoria Preston. A fact he’d do well to remember.
Clay’s musings were interrupted when the server reappeared by their side. He carried a wide, ceramic platter full of food that he placed between them on the table. “Cracked conch with various dipping sauces,” he announced. “An island specialty. On the house for our esteemed guests.”
The enticing aroma of the fried seafood had his stomach grumbling and he felt almost grateful for the distraction.
“That looks delicious,” Tori told the waiter with a warm smile. “Thank you.”
The man looked ready to melt at the smile she gave him.
Welcome to the club, buddy.
“I didn’t think I was hungry until he brought this out.” He motioned for her to go ahead. “Ladies first.”
Tori gingerly lifted a small piece then dipped it into a small cup of sauce. As she bit into it, her eyes grew wide and she let out a soft moan.
Clay had to grip the table to keep from reacting. “I take it it’s good?”
“Heavenly. I’ll have to see if I can wrangle the recipe to share with my mom. Wait till you try one!”
He almost didn’t want to take any, just to watch her savor every last morsel. In the end, though, his stomach won out.
She was right. The conch melted in his mouth as a burst of flavor exploded on his tongue.
“Oh man. That is good.” He pointed to the dipping sauce he’d just used. “You have to taste that one next.”
Tori did as he suggested, her reaction instantaneous and just as visceral as the last time. Her eyelids lowered as her tongue darted out to lick her lower lip.
Sweet mercy.
He was going to have to look away. He might have to ask the waiter to turn the television on. Just so he had something else to focus on. Had any woman he’d ever encountered looked so sexy while she ate?
An image popped into his head before he could so much as stop it. He’d picked up a morsel of food and was feeding it to Tori. He could feel those luscious lips around his finger as she took in the bite—
Clay sucked in a breath.
A television wasn’t going to help. He doubted even a cold shower might. Yet he still couldn’t make himself look away. When she took another bite of food, a small drop of sauce landed on her chin, right below her lip. The gods were surely laughing at him with all the temptation they kept throwing his way.
He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. It was like asking him not to take his next breath. He leaned over to indicate the exact spot. “You, uh, missed your mouth with some of that.”
“Huh?”
He lifted his hand to point out exactly where the sauce had dripped on her chin. Only he did more than point. His hand seemed to move on its own. Before he knew it, he was wiping the sauce away with his thumb. Her skin felt soft and smooth under his finger.
She gasped at his touch but made no move to shift away.
Another vision appeared in his mind. He was leaning closer, replacing his finger with his tongue. He imagined tasting her. He was sure she would taste of salt and sea and spice.
Man. This is bad. Totally wrong.
He couldn’t be lusting after a friendly baker he’d only seen once or twice when an occasion called for it. What was the matter with him? He usually had a better hold on his libido.
He’d been without female companionship for too long. That’s all this craziness was. But he couldn’t seem to bring himself to move away, and his hand was still lingering on her face. Would it be so wrong to stroke her cheek? To gently grasp the tendril of hair that had fallen out of the elastic and tuck it back behind her ear?
Would he be able to stop himself once he started touching her, knowing it was the wrong thing to do? After all, he’d had to force himself to let her go after embracing her on the court.
It didn’t help matters that Tori still hadn’t made any kind of move to back away from his touch. Her breath warmed the skin of his hand. Her breathing had gone ragged and sharp.
A commotion from the direction of the doorway scattered his attention, breaking the moment. A gaggle of bikini-clad young women noisily entered the tavern and headed to the bar area. The disruption brought Clay to his senses. And not a moment too soon. He immediately dropped his hand and reached for another piece of conch.
Tori blinked twice and shifted in her chair to lean back.
He wasn’t imagining it or reading into things. She was clearly as attracted to him as he was to her. And what was he to do with that information?
Of course, the only sane answer was to ig
nore it.
* * *
So that’s what if felt like. To feel true desire, to tremble with temptation. To want a man as much as she wanted her next breath. Tori realized she’d never really experienced such a fierce longing for a man, despite having been in a years-long relationship.
In fact, she’d never experienced anything like this with Drew. Certainly not toward the end. No, she’d felt nothing then but trepidation and something akin to fear the more time they’d spent together. As each argument grew louder and scarier than the last... As each of his criticisms, on everything from her clothing to her hairstyle, became more and more insulting... He’d chipped away at her sense of self and security until desire was the last thing she felt toward the man.
No, she’d never felt for Drew what she was currently experiencing with Clay.
She sat stunned and disoriented at what had just transpired between them. For a moment there, she could have sworn that Clay was going to lean in and kiss her. And, heaven help her, she would have let him. More than that, she would have welcomed it.
She’d have kissed him back.
What would it feel like to kiss Clayton Ramos? As it was, the mere touch of his thumb on her chin had her quaking inside. Her face still felt hot, her cheeks burned. Her breath caught in her throat.
Snap out of it.
Regardless of what had just happened between them—or almost happened—she was here as Clay’s employee. She couldn’t let herself lose sight of that fact. They were in paradise. For a fantasy wedding, no less. The very atmosphere they found themselves in was ripe for tempting and romantic thoughts. A dangerous combination given how she’d harbored a crush on the man since first laying eyes on him.
But none of that was real. A reality she couldn’t ignore, because reality would hit her soon enough, like immediately after she landed on US soil. Back in Boston, once all this was over, she’d return to a life of baking specialty cake orders and making cupcakes, along with occasionally working the random shift as needed at her family’s restaurant. Without any certain knowledge of when she might even see Clay again. And he would probably forget her very existence until he needed another layered cake.
Tori refused to spend any time pining after a man she could never have. She wouldn’t subject herself to a life committed to sitting by the phone waiting for a call that may never come.
And what would it do to her heart to see him with another woman? To watch him on various tabloid websites accompany someone else to the latest premiere?
She’d worked much too hard to build a life she found fulfilling and enjoyable. A life that merited her full focus. She owed herself that much.
Tori lifted her gaze upward to find him studying her face.
“Tori?” He said her name so softly, it bordered on a whisper. She knew full well the question he was asking. But she was nowhere near ready to answer it.
Making quick work of finishing the rest of her wine, she gave him a polite smile. “I really should get back to that sketch now.”
Then, erring on the side of rudeness, she hopped off the stool and made herself walk away.
She heard him bite out a curse as she left.
CHAPTER FOUR
“THERE YOU ARE.” Gemma’s familiar voice sounded from behind her on the beach. Tori carefully placed the cupcake tower on the picnic table set up for desserts. The early evening sky was just starting to dim as a soft tropical wind breezed through the air.
Gemma reached her side. “Wow. That’s a work of art.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m so tempted to just snare one of those right now rather than after dinner.” She pointed to the middle layer. “Is that one key lime?”
“It is,” Tori answered. “And I won’t tell a soul should you have dessert before dinner.”
Gemma giggled. “I’ll be good. This time.”
“Were you looking for me?”
“Yes. I wanted to make sure you knew to join us for dinner.”
What a totally unexpected offer. Tori really had no intention of doing anything but hanging in her hotel room with a glass of wine and the paperback she’d picked up at the airport. She opened her mouth to argue but Gemma cut her off. “I insist.”
It didn’t seem right. She had no hope of avoiding Clay if she was to attend a beachside picnic dinner as if she were a regular guest. “Gemma, I couldn’t impose that way.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Impose? We’re tennis pals, remember. You just happen to be baking for me.”
Tori couldn’t help but be touched by her words. But there was still the question of Clay. She wasn’t sure if she could act unaffected where he was concerned. Not after what had happened in the tavern after their tennis match. And the chances of avoiding him were probably slim to none at a beachside dinner.
Gemma threw down the proverbial gauntlet. “I’m the bride and what I say goes.”
It was hard to argue that point.
* * *
About twenty minutes later, Tori found herself heading to the beach against her better judgment, in a red flowery summer dress and black canvas sandals. She’d packed exactly two dressy outfits, not really imagining she would need them, but was now glad she had.
Her heart nearly stopped when she saw him. Wearing loose cotton pants and a short-sleeved shirt unbuttoned at the neck, he exuded the perfect picture of a virile, handsome male. Walking from the direction of the residence cottages, she could tell even from this distance that his hair was wet, making it look a shade darker. It brought out the chocolate brown of his eyes.
A toddler in a white-lace dress darted out from nowhere and made a beeline for Clay. Tori watched with amusement as the tot wrapped herself around his shin. Without pause, he bent to retrieve her and swung her around in a circle. Tori could hear the little girl’s giggles loud and clear despite the crashing of the waves behind her. Then, planting an affectionate kiss on her cheek, Clay set the toddler atop his shoulders.
“That’s Lilly. Our niece.” Gemma had come to stand beside her without Tori even noticing. No wonder, her gaze and focus had been completely on the man who so thoroughly seemed to demand her attention whenever he was present.
“She’s almost three,” Gemma said.
The pieces fell into place in Tori’s mind. Lilly’s mother had to be the other sister. Adria. The one whose wedding she’d created a cake for just about three years ago. Given the new information, she could definitely see the family resemblance. Lilly had the same nose and coloring of her mother’s side of the family.
“She’s absolutely adorable.”
“And she knows it because we all spoil her rotten.” Gemma pointed in her brother’s direction. “Particularly that one there.”
She so didn’t need to be hearing about Clay as a doting uncle. Nor did she need to be seeing it firsthand. The picture was doing nothing to abate her patently inconvenient and ever-growing attraction.
Tori made herself look away and turn fully to face Gemma, to try to change the subject. As if she had any hope of getting her mind off of Clay Ramos in any way.
“The food looks divine.” It smelled pretty good, too. Trays of barbecued meats, various pasta dishes and tropical salads with exotic fruits and vegetables had been set up on half a dozen wooden tables.
“So does your cupcake tower,” Gemma said graciously. “You’re very talented.”
Tori had heard that before, but never tired of having clients remind her they thought so. “Thanks.”
“For that matter, you’re not a bad tennis player, either.” She gave her a playful nudge. “Clay wouldn’t have stood a chance at winning if it weren’t for you. You should tell him I said so.”
No part of that statement was true. Tori spread her hands and shook her head. “Oh no. No way I’m getting in the middle of any kind of sibling rivalry.”
Gemma chuckled. “Well
, Tom and I have been thinking, and we’ve decided we’d like a rematch.”
Tori laughed. “Is that so? I’ll consider it. And Clay will have to agree, of course.” That was a fib. Tori had no intention whatsoever of playing partner to Clay in any way, shape or form. Not again. Her psyche couldn’t handle the proximity or the temptation.
“You and my brother make a good team,” Gemma declared, taking her gently by the forearm. “Here, you can sit next to him at our table.”
* * *
Tori Preston sure cleaned up well. Clay had to force himself not to stare outright as she walked with Gemma from the buffet area set up by the water.
Dressed in a loose-fitting, spaghetti-strapped red dress that brought out the bright color of her eyes and fell just above her knees, she looked like a vision straight out of the dreams of any red-blooded male. Including himself.
How had he not noticed how shapely her legs were before now? She looked the part of an innocent yet alluring seductress who had no idea just how seductive she was. He wasn’t the only one who noticed. Glancing around the beach, Clay could see she was attracting all sorts of attention. More than one pair of male eyes followed her as the two women made their way over. His gut tautened in annoyance.
Funny, he’d never considered himself to be the jealous type before this very moment.
He set his niece on her feet on the sand and gave her a small tickle under her chin. The child ran back to her mother with a delightful squeal of laughter.
Tori smiled at Lilly as the little girl darted by and he noticed that her hair seemed softer. She’d toned the spikes into delicate curls that framed her face.
And since when had he been the type to note changes in a woman’s hairstyle? Tori Preston was bringing out a side of him he hardly recognized. A side he didn’t want to examine too closely. Or even acknowledge.
He’d experienced firsthand the dire ramifications that could arise when lovesick souls followed their desires without regard to the end results. Without regard to the effect their actions would have on those around them.