Three Promises

by Lily Everett

  Her sleek brows crinkled together in a way he did not want to find adorable. “I don’t follow.”

  “If we have fun planning it,” Zane explained, planting a hand in the middle of the open binder and leaning over to catch her eyes, “the guests will have fun at it. Works every time. Come on.”

  Suspicion pulled the corners of Felicity’s mouth down. “Where are we going?”

  An unexpected throb of hunger beat through his blood. He wanted to kiss that tiny frown off her face, he realized. He wanted to sweep the binders and knick-knacks off the table and lay her down over it so he could unbutton all those stiff, pearly white buttons and see her bare and flushed with desire. He wanted her.

  For an instant, the words of Miles’s bet drifted through Zane’s mind. His soon-to-be-shackled friend had marriage on the brain and an overabundance of confidence. Miles had bet each of his billionaire bachelor groomsmen that they’d find love on Sanctuary Island, or he’d give them his luxurious, custom-built helicopter.

  Easiest bet Zane ever took, for sure. No matter how gorgeous Felicity Carlson was, or how much he planned to enjoy seducing her into having some fun over the next couple of weeks, Zane’s heart was safe.

  Reminding himself he had nothing to worry about and those helicopter keys were as good as his, Zane hopped off the table, grinning widely. He snagged Felicity’s hand on his way out the door. “We’re going to scope out the most awesome, exciting, coolest spot for the party.”

  “But I have a list of potential locations in my binder!”

  Closing his fingers over hers, Zane said, “Leave the binder. We won’t need it.”

  “But—”

  He swept her through the entryway and out the yacht club’s front door on a tide of enthusiasm and excitement. Felicity kept up with him, her high heels clacking down the front steps. Until she stopped dead at the sight of Zane’s beloved, hand-restored vintage bike, ripping her hand from his grasp.

  “Besides,” Zane concluded, triumphantly. “It would be hard to carry the binder on the bike.”

  “I’m not riding behind you on that thing,” Felicity stated, crossing her arms definitively.

  “Of course you aren’t. This bike isn’t made to take a rider pillion.” He ran a loving hand over the khaki tan paint slicking the handlebars, then recaptured Felicity’s arm to tug her around to the other side of the bike. “This is your ride, babe.”

  Reaching down, he pulled the gathered canvas cover off with a flourish, revealing the sidecar attached to his WWII-era BMW R75 motorcycle.

  Chapter Two

  “Is this thing even street legal?” Felicity yelled over the roar of the bike’s engine. Her teeth clattered together every time they bumped over a crack in the road, and she clenched her jaw under the tight strap of the ridiculous black half helmet, complete with aviator goggles, Zane had plopped on her head before zooming the bike and sidecar away from the curb.

  “Life is too short to worry about details like that,” he shouted back, flashing her a blinding smile as they swerved to pass a slow-moving pick-up truck.

  From her vantage point wedged into the sidecar, her tush mere inches from the surface of the road, Felicity could only squeeze her eyes shut and pray they weren’t about to be flattened by oncoming traffic.

  Dear Lord. Please don’t let me die at the hands of the handsomest lunatic I’ve ever met.

  Another bump in the paving jolted her eyes open to see a long stretch of open road unfurling in front of their tires. They were racing away from the center of town, leaving its café and tiny library and all the cute little Main Street shops behind. Zane took another curve, just a hair too fast, and adrenaline flooded Felicity’s blood in a tingling rush.

  “How fast do you think I can get us all the way around the island?” Zane yelled, revving the engine. “The whole circumference—how long?”

  “An hour.”

  “Pssh. Bet we can do it in forty minutes.”

  “This is your plan to scout for an event location?” Felicity almost shrieked. “To streak around the outside of the island at top speed?”

  “How else will we know what Sanctuary Island has to offer?”

  “Research! I’ve compiled extensive notes in the month since I arrived!”

  The motorcycle chugged up a hill, cresting the top of it in with a shuddering growl that vibrated up through Felicity’s bones to her back teeth. She could smell the salt of the ocean even over the petrol fumes.

  Zane idled the engine for a precious, steadying moment, and Felicity took the opportunity to suck in a greedy breath of fresh, clear sea air. It should have been cold enough to freeze her lungs, but instead even the weather cooperated with Zane’s insanity by providing unseasonably warm, lovely sunshine and clear, vibrant blue skies.

  She glanced to her left and gasped at the beauty of the view over the rippling reed grass of the marshes, etched with sparkling narrow streams and dotted with a slow-grazing band of wild horses. The horses’ tangled manes whipped in the breeze, their long tails swishing away flies as they picked their way through the marsh in search of tender shoots and sweet grass.

  In the short weeks of her stay on the island, it was a sight she’d seen several times, but she couldn’t imagine ever growing tired of it. “Beautiful,” Felicity breathed, too soft to be heard over the grumbling purr of the engine, but Zane glanced down at her anyway. His electric blue eyes were hidden behind a pair of black wayfarers, making his expression difficult to parse.

  Suddenly aware of the soft thrill of emotion she was probably broadcasting, after her silly girlish heart clenched at the sight of those horses, so wild and free—oh, dear. That wasn’t how she wanted him to see her at all. Felicity hastily rearranged her features to show nothing but business-like interest and appraisal.

  “This is a nice spot, although there’s a stretch of beach that’s even more convenient to the yacht club. We have to think about the logistics of transporting the guests from the ceremony to the reception.” Pushing the aviator goggles up onto the helmet, Felicity shaded her eyes and tried to look at the idyllic view as she would any other potential event space.

  The motorcycle engine cut out abruptly, with one curt jerk of Zane’s hand over the ignition. Felicity shivered—she’d grown so used to the vibrations that without them, she felt weirdly light and empty.

  “I must not have heard that right,” Zane said flatly. “You want to have the reception on the beach. At night. It’s not exactly summer, babe. You want the guests to freeze?”

  Felicity nearly choked on her dismay. “I thought for sure the only thing we would be able to agree on was having the reception on the beach! We’re on an island. What could be more perfect?”

  A muscle ticked in Zane’s rough-stubbled jaw. “And I thought I was crazy. It’s too cold. Not to mention boring. No.”

  Felicity started trying to disentangle her legs from the sidecar in order to have this conversation properly. She couldn’t deal with a man like Zane effectively while essentially squatting at his feet wearing a ridiculous helmet and bug-eye goggles.

  Wrestling herself upright with as much grace as she could manage, Felicity ripped off the helmet and resisted the urge to do more than run a quick hand through her no-doubt hilarious hair. Her usual sleek, nicely highlighted, light brown bun must be squashed flat. “There are lots of ways around the weather. And we have to at least consider it, because I’m pretty sure it’s what Greta wants in her heart of hearts.”

  “Her heart of hearts,” Zane sneered. “Bull. You think it’ll be impressive and win you a bunch of clients.”

  “That’s not true!”

  “Did Greta tell you she wanted a beach wedding?” Zane demanded.

  Swallowing down the urge to prove him wrong at all costs, Felicity admitted, “Not in so many words. But I get the feeling, when we talk about options…”

  “Feelings! Hearts!” Zane shook his head, obviously not buying into any of it, and Felicity blew out a steadying breath. />
  “Mr. Bishop, please. You don’t get to just veto the beach as a location. I’m willing to look at other options, and I promise I’ll keep an open mind. But you have to promise the same.”

  Those darn black sunglasses were an impenetrable shield, keeping Felicity from reading his expression.

  “I don’t want to have the reception on the beach.”

  What was his problem with the beach?

  “Well, let’s check out what else the island has to offer,” she said, doing her best to be reasonable. “But it doesn’t make sense to rule out the bride’s first choice just because it’s not what you want.”

  That got a quirk out of those handsome, chiseled lips. Not a true smile, but it gave Felicity hope. “I don’t know. I’m pretty used to getting what I want.”

  “In your day-to-day life in New York, I have no doubt that whatever you say is the law. But we aren’t in New York, and this wedding isn’t business as usual for you.

  “This is my day-to-day life, and I’m not used to sharing responsibility with anyone. My clients may make demands and have whims, but in the end, the buck stops with me. It’s my job to take their wildest dreams and turn them into reality, and I’m used to doing it without any help.”

  Zane cocked his head. He looked incredibly dangerous, in a beautiful, masculine way—he could have stepped right out of an ad for aftershave or something. “You have help now.”

  A thrill surged through her like a wave on the shore. “Thank you. Does that mean you’ll reconsider your veto?”

  He nodded shortly. “Okay. The beach goes on the list as a possibility. But I want this wedding to be unique, special, as over the top and amazing as my friend, the groom. And for the record, I don’t think the beach is special enough.”

  Struggling to understand his objections and see it from his perspective, Felicity said, “What if we go down there and check it out up close? I bet once your feet sink into the sand and you feel the salty breeze on your face, you’ll change your mind.”

  A strange emotion flickered through his gaze, so swift and strong, Felicity was almost certain she must have imagined it.

  “Not so fast.” Zane grabbed her hand, the point of contact sending a jolt of heat up her arm. “If I agree to check out the beach, you agree to do it my way.”

  Right. The fun way. Steeling herself for a stomach-churning race across the wet, packed sand, Felicity fitted the helmet back over her hair and folded herself back down into the sidecar. “Agreed.”

  But, after revving the engine, Zane didn’t point the motorcycle down the hill and pick up enough speed to make rattling along in the sidecar feel like a ride on a rickety wooden roller coaster. Instead, he executed a precise three-point turn and zoomed back in the direction they’d come from.

  “Where are we going?” Felicity cried out, hastily buckling the chin strap on her helmet.

  Zane held up a finger in an infuriating signal for silence. Felicity shut her mouth and narrowed her eyes, watching as Zane casually steered one-handed while pulling his cell phone from his jacket pocket and texting something with the other.

  “It’s illegal to text and drive,” Felicity couldn’t help pointing out, wondering what message was so urgent that Zane couldn’t wait to send it. “If you need me to send a text for you, I can.”

  Glancing sideways at her, Zane grinned. “Unexpected advantage of the sidecar—hands free. Sure, catch.”

  He flipped the phone at her and Felicity grabbed for it, heart jumping into her throat. “Be careful!”

  “Careful is boring. Live a little. What’d he say?”

  The phone buzzed in her hand before Felicity could tear out her hair. Or his. Checking the screen, she read what had to be the response to Zane’s text with a dawning sense of having stumbled into an upside down universe where nothing made sense. Her mouth dropped open.

  “Tell me,” Zane demanded.

  “Miles says the helicopter and pilot will pick us up from the town square,” Felicity reported dazedly, still skimming the rest of the text. She frowned. “And he also reminds you that you haven’t won the bet yet. What bet? And what helicopter? What on earth are you planning?”

  Zane roared around a curve, narrowly avoiding an oncoming car. The other driver honked and Felicity ducked her head, partly in order to assume the crash position and partly to keep from being recognized as crazy Zane’s companion.

  “That’s a lot of questions,” Zane replied, obviously unfazed. “Which do you want me to answer first?”

  Another curve loomed, this one scoring a path around a hill with a sheer drop-off straight down to the ocean on the left. Heart hammering, Felicity squeaked, “Just concentrate on driving!”

  She wasn’t so terrified out of her mind that she missed the hint of a smirk that pulled at Zane’s mouth as he shrugged and leaned into the turn. That was fine, she told herself as she squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated on breathing. Let him think he’d distracted her with fear for her life. When she got out of this ridiculous sidecar and back onto solid, blessedly motionless land, they’d have a little chat.

  And Zane would answer every one of her questions, starting with fleeting look of panic she’d glimpsed on his face when she’d suggested taking a walk on the beach.

  * * *

  Zane whooped with pleasure, the rush of lift off making his entire body go light and weightless for a brief, heart-stoppingly awesome instant. “I love flying! Isn’t this amazing?”

  Her pretty red mouth set in a firm line, Felicity was balancing her camera on her knees and staring down at it as if imploring it to be interesting enough to distract her from having fun. “What’s amazing is how fast you hustled us onto this helicopter. I would have appreciated a few moments on the ground to talk and plan without having to scream over a loud engine.”

  “We’re not screaming,” Zane pointed out, indicating the microphones built into their high-tech helmets. She’d made a face at swapping the motorcycle helmet for this one, but she’d been too busy trying to get him to answer her questions to argue about it.

  Her sigh read loud and clear through the headset. Zane laughed, filled with the sheer exhilaration of soaring up and over the red, gold, and orange leaves rustling across Sanctuary Island’s town square. The helicopter flight was exactly what he needed to shake off the lingering darkness that had shadowed him since they crested that hill and stared down over a pristinely beautiful stretch of sandy beach and the sparkling blue ocean beyond.

  He knew most people would probably catch their breath at a view like that. They’d do their best to etch it on their memories so they could revisit the perfect serenity of the scene forever.

  That wasn’t an option for Zane. He’d locked a particular faraway beach into his brain a long time ago, and that memory was more powerful than any other. The instant he saw a pretty little postcard view like the one today, on the eastern coast of Sanctuary Island, his treacherous mind overlaid his sight with the memory of that other beach. That other day.

  The day everything changed. The day Zane learned how precious and precarious life could be.

  “Are you all right?”

  Felicity’s voice, slightly tinny through the helmet’s speakers, was a welcome distraction from his thoughts. “Never better. Come on, close that binder and admit it—this is the best way to scout the whole island for the perfect party spot.”

  Her hand clenched around her ballpoint pen, her fist resolute on the open binder page. But Zane was sure he’d caught a hint of wistfulness in the widening of her amber eyes when she gazed past him out the giant open window. Turning her gaze determinedly back to the binder in her lap, she said, “We’re short on time. I’ll use this trip to take some notes and come up with a plan of attack. Let me know when we get there.”

  “Get where?”

  “To the next potential location! I assume it’s on the other side of the island? Although the whole island is tiny, I’m sure we could have driven it.”

  “We could’
ve, but I thought this would be more fun.”

  She tore her gaze from her notes to give him a narrow look. Even with her hair whipping around her face and some color in her cheeks, Felicity Carlson gave off an air of competence and ambition that Zane had to admire.

  “Is fun all you ever think about?” she demanded.

  Sinking lower into the luxurious embrace of the custom Hermès leather seat, Zane squirmed his hips and let his legs fall open with a filthy smile. “No. Sometimes I think about sex.”

  “Of course you do.” Felicity’s cheeks had even more color in them than they’d had a minute ago.

  “You don’t think about sex?” Zane asked lazily, studying her face. The curve of her cheek and the fine-grained texture of her skin, the sweet bow of her mouth and the crinkles at the corners of her golden-brown eyes—somehow, those things were more interesting to look at than the whirling panorama view outside the helicopter’s window.

  She tensed slightly. “There’s more to life than pleasure and self-gratification. I learned that the hard way. Think how much people could achieve if they channeled half the effort they put into getting laid, into something more productive, like their education or career.”

  “More productive, maybe. But not as much fun.”

  “There’s that word again!” Felicity shook her head, but at least she was paying attention to him, not scribbling away in her binder. “Are you saying it’s not fun to run a record label and a string of exclusive clubs and bars?”

  “You’re right, I did basically achieve the impossible—my job is about as fun as it’s possible to be. And even then, sometimes it feels like work. Although I can always hire someone to take care of those parts of the business. Which I do. Drink?” Zane rifled through the well-stocked liquor cabinet between the passenger seats, and came up with half a bottle of gin and some tiny cans of tonic. “I bet there are even limes around here someplace. Want me to ask the pilot?”

  But Felicity was like an extraordinarily lovely dog with a bone. “I’d think if anyone would understand the need to achieve, it would be a self-made man like you.”