All the doubts she'd had when he’d told her his name was different careened back into her.
Had all his smooth talk, his sexy smiles, been nothing but an elaborate ploy to get her into his bed? And now that they'd spent an amazing night and part of the morning together, he was blowing her off? Was he married or engaged or have a significant other and that significant other decided to turn up in Barefoot Bay?
"Ugh. Stop it, Caryn. You're being pathetic. And talking to yourself doesn't make you weird at all."
Tired of her paranoid thoughts, she marched over to the table where the beautifully bound book outlining all the features of the resort and Barefoot Bay was laid out for every guest to plan their stay.
She flicked through the pages and stopped when she saw the advert for the Twisted Pelican yoga studio. Some yoga would be perfect right now. She'd taken some beginner classes a couple of years ago but then got so busy with her business that finding time to attend classes became near on impossible. Checking the schedule, she found a beginner's class was starting in thirty minutes. Decision made, she raced into her room and changed into some workout clothes. Tuning out her inner thoughts and finding her Zen center seemed like a perfect idea.
How could anybody concentrate on their poses with the delicious aromas wafting up from the kitchen downstairs? No matter what, after class today, she had plans to eat at the gastro pub. Just by the smells alone, she could tell the place deserved the reputation it had as one of the best places to eat in Barefoot Bay. She wouldn’t be surprised if the food was in the same class as Junonia.
She bent over and touched her toes, stretching her back, when a group of young girls filed into the studio.
"I can't believe you managed to get a picture with Tom Carrington yesterday. He's so divine. I wish I'd been there."
"I know. He was just walking along the beach by himself. He was so dreamy and, like, so happy to take a photo with me. And way more handsome in person than on television."
Oh God, please spare her from listening to that high-pitched, excited schoolgirl voice all lesson.
Caryn grabbed her water bottle and took a long sip; she should fill it before the class started. Unfortunately, the girls who were fawning over a cellphone were standing right near the water refilling station.
"He had his shirt off," the girl squealed and Caryn cringed. These girls didn’t look much younger than her, but they were acting like teenagers the way they were going on about this Tom guy. Geez, he had to be special. Giving into temptation, she looked over to the group. The closest girl had the phone in her hand, giving Caryn a slightly obscured view of this Tom guy. She needed to have a closer look, because their Tom and her Tom looked remarkably similar.
"Excuse me, may I please have a look at your picture, too?"
"Sure, Tom Carrington is gorgeous, don't you think?" The girl stuck the phone in Caryn's face. There, on the small rectangular screen, with his arms around two girls, stood her Tom, brandishing his sexy smile. The smile she thought was hers alone.
"What did you say his name was?"
"Tom Carrington from the television show, Carrington's Dream Homes. Girl, where have you been living that you don't know this fine specimen of a man?"
"Australia," she snapped and walked away too angry to even consider calming down enough to spend the next hour bending herself into impossible positions. Oh, she knew exactly who that fine specimen of a man was. She knew him very, very, very well.
Caryn marched over to her bag and slung it over her shoulder, almost knocking out the instructor, Libby, as she walked by.
"Whoa, you almost KO'd me. That wouldn't make for a good class." Libby chuckled.
"Sorry," Caryn bit out, hugging her anger close, ready to unleash the anger on Tom.
"Are you okay?"
A hand landed on Caryn's arm. The instructor’s gaze was concerned.
"I'm fine, but I can't stay for class. "
Libby looked as if she wanted to say more but nodded. "Well, we have a late afternoon class today if you need to work through whatever is going on at the moment." She finished with a flourish of her hand.
Caryn nodded but didn't say anything. She needed to get out of the room before she did something stupid, like burst into noisy sobs.
If only she had her phone with her, she could search for Tom on the Internet. But she’d left it on her bedside table after reading his message. Now in her villa she pulled out her laptop, the one she hadn't touched since she'd arrived at the resort. She fired up the machine then quickly opened an Internet browser and typed “Tom Carrington”' into the search window. Seconds later, the screen filled with links to various websites, all featuring Tom.
Articles didn't interest her—not yet anyway. She wanted visual confirmation that the person she knew as Tom Jones was really Tom Carrington. Moving the mouse, she clicked on the images tab. Rows and rows of pictures filled her screen. All with Tom smiling at her. Tom in a sexy black suit with his arm around a blonde whose face would crack if she attempted to smile. Then with a brunette, wearing a similar look as the blonde. Tom dressed in a chambray shirt and jeans as he held a hammer in what she assumed was a promotional shot. Tom wearing a hard hat and a tight-fitting white t-shirt, tucked into another pair of faded jeans.
Damn, she knew he'd looked sexy in a hard hat, and it made her only angrier that she could still get turned on by him, even after everything she’d just found out.
Then her heart freefell to the bottom of her stomach. Against her better judgment, she clicked on an image to enlarge it. The picture he'd used on the profile for Brad Jones burst to life on her screen.
How could Tom have lied to her like this? She'd told him that first night she didn't like liars.
God, how could she have been so gullible? She should've listened to her instincts and walked away instead of hanging around to give him a chance.
A knock sounded at her door. Caryn glanced at the time on the bottom corner of her laptop. An hour and half had passed since she'd walked into her villa. The anger inside her boiled up again into volcanic proportions. She knew exactly who was at the door. The lying rat bastard himself—Tom Jones a.k.a. Tom Carrington. She slammed down the lid down on her laptop. Ugh. Hopefully, she hadn't smashed the screen. If she had, she'd figure it out later.
A second knock sounded and Caryn hopped off the couch and marched over to the door. She pulled it open violently and Tom almost fell into the foyer.
"Well, well, well," she started, crossing her arms over her chest. "If it isn't the infamous Tom Carrington of Carrington's Dream Homes. How lucky am I that he graces me with his presence."
The color drained from Tom's face. Oh yeah, he knew he was in the middle of a shit storm. She couldn't wait to see how he tried to talk his way out of this one. But nothing he could say would make her forget how he'd been using her the last two weeks. Her days of believing a liar were over.
12
Shit.
He'd run out of time. Caryn had somehow found out the truth. It should've come from his mouth, not the way she found out. However that was.
Fuck.
"I can explain. I was go—"
"Stop. I really don't want to hear any explanations. Nothing"—she slashed her hand in the air, her eyes flashing fire at him—"nothing you can say to me now will make this situation better. You lied to me, Tom Carrington. From the first moment I walked up to you in the bar, you have played me for a fool and now it’s done. Over. I want you to leave."
Tom swept a hand through his hair in frustration. God, why hadn't he forced the issue last night? Why hadn't he demanded she listen to him?
Or why had Aaron turned up today of all days, causing him to cancel his walk on the beach with Caryn? He had every intention of telling her this morning about his true identity. Except Aaron had to go through every point of the new endorsement deal, which was out of this world, so he’d accepted the terms presented. Then Tom had asked Aaron what he planned to do about Sienna and the way she'd r
un off. He shouldn’t have asked, because once Aaron started, he’d explained to Tom exactly how he was going to placate the movie producers.
Pain radiated from Caryn. Her lips, normally full and turned up in a half smile, were now thin and pursed. He wanted to brush his thumb across them until they softened.
He had so much groveling to do, and he would do it. Seeing how much she was hurting and knowing he'd caused it killed him. If he'd speculated he was in love with her before, he knew for sure he loved her now. How could he fall in love in less than two weeks? It didn't matter; his heart knew what he wanted. He’d heard plenty of stories from couples on the show on how they’d known they were in love after the first date. All he knew now was, he couldn’t imagine his life without Caryn Stapleton in it. He had to win her over.
Tom walked toward her. No way was he walking away from her.
"Please, Caryn. Please listen to me."
"Why?" She swiped her hand across her eyes. Her cheeks glistened with her tears. "Why should I listen to anything you have to say? Why would I believe you anyway?"
God, he was an asshole to make her cry. He knew nothing good was going to come of him continually keeping his true identity to himself. But there was no point lamenting on it. What’s done was done. The priority now was to fix this and fix it fast.
"You're right. You don't have to listen, and I understand believing me is going to be difficult. Can you please give me a chance to explain? After that, it's up to you. If you want me to leave, I will. I'll leave and not look back."
Even though it would be the hardest thing he’d ever do.
He crossed his fingers behind his back, like he'd done as a kid. Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that.
She crossed and uncrossed her arms. She closed her eyes and he held his breath, knowing that what came out of her mouth next would determine the rest of his life.
Holy hell, what was it about Barefoot Bay? Was there magic in the sand? Like the motto said, everyone literally did kick off their shoes and fall in love. He’d scoffed when Jocelyn told him, but here he stood in front of a woman he'd known for a short span of time, waiting to see if she'd give him a chance. A chance at a future where they would spend the rest of their lives making each other deliriously happy.
"Fine. I'll listen, but after you've finished, I still expect you to leave."
Elation jumped inside of him like a kid winning their very first championship football game.
Taking a deep breath, he dove into the explanation of his life. "Yes, I lied to you." Her gasp indicated she hadn't been expecting that to come out of his mouth. "I don't know who Brad Jones is. I haven't been able to find out. All I know is some dude used one of my publicity shots as his profile picture on the dating website. I'm sorry, Caryn, but as far as I can tell, Brad Jones doesn't exist."
"I know that now, don't I?"
Tom bit back a smile at her sass. God, he loved how she wasn't cowering in despair. Oh, no doubt she felt it, but she wasn't letting it beat her. "I'm Tom Carrington and I have a television show called Carrington's Dream Homes."
"You're still telling me things I already know."
"That first night you came up to me I thought you were just another woman trying to hit on me. Saying that we had met on an online dating site was a line I hadn’t heard before. And believe me, I’ve had many interesting ones used on me. And, as you know, I blew you off."
"Yes, you did, and yet you followed me out of the bar. Why?"
Tom couldn’t help himself; he needed to touch her. Reaching out, he brushed a finger down her cheek. "Because you accepted my refusal and walked away and that intrigued me. Plus, you looked so defeated, as if you expected me to give you the brush off, just like I did. So I decided I would have a drink with you and that would be it, we'd go our separate ways. I'd enjoy the rest of my time off before I went back into my heavy production schedule and you'd go on with your life. Only a drink led to dinner, which led to a walk on the beach, which led the best kiss of my life. Yes, I admit I pretended to be Brad Jones, but by the end of the first hour and by the time I kissed you, I was totally Tom Carrington. And every other time we’ve be together, I've always been Tom Carrington. Brad Jones or Tom Jones never played a part in what made us an “us.” You have to believe me."
Her expression gave nothing away. Not even her body language indicated that she was beginning to believe him.
"What about all the stories you told me about your job? How do you explain them?"
"All the incidents I told you about. All the nightmares I had with some clients, they are very real. Only they played out on television." He grabbed both of her hands in his, rubbing his thumb over the top of hers. He needed something tangible. "Even though you are angry at me, I wouldn't change anything about the time we spent together. Do you know why?"
Her brow furrowed, and he expected her to pull her hands out of his, but instead she gave them a small squeeze. Hope fluttered to life in his chest.
"Why, Tom?"
"Because you saw me for the person I am. You didn't see me as someone who could get you in front of television executives. Or see me as an opportunity to get on a red carpet. For the first time since my show took off, a woman looked at me and listened to what I had to say. A woman took the time to get to know me." Caryn started to shake her head. "No, I will say it again. I may have lied about my last name. But everything else I told you was the truth. I can be myself with you, Caryn. I can be the Tom who gets annoyed with the people I have to deal with on my show. I would never have continued to spend time with you if I didn't trust you not to sell it to some gossip Internet site for a quick buck."
Her shoulders dropped a fraction, as though a small amount of anger and tension had been released.
"You’re right, we had plenty of conversations. There were numerous opportunities for you to tell me who you are. Why didn't you?"
"I guess the same reason you seemed reluctant to tell me all about yourself." Her mouth opened, but he held up a hand. "Don't try to deny it. You know I had to drag out of you the fact you'd sold your Internet company. You didn't give a lot of details about the sale, but I imagine if you captured the interest of a corporation, you had to have been very successful. And no doubt the price they offered you means you can live very comfortably for the rest of your life. I don’t blame you for keeping your financial situation quiet."
A rose pink hue colored her cheeks. His speculation was correct.
"Maybe."
He chuckled. "It seems we both kept things about our lives from each other. But it doesn't make what we shared a lie. Doesn’t make what I feel for you a lie either."
"And what is it you feel for me, Tom Carrington?"
The hope he'd refused to give any credence to a few minutes ago blossomed to life. He released her hands and cupped her cheeks. He took a few seconds to memorize her features: her velvet-brown eyes, high cheekbones, her pert nose and luscious lips. Her tongue darted out to swipe across them, tempting him to take possession of them.
Tom leaned forward until mere millimeters separated them. "It's quite simple, Caryn Stapleton. I'm falling for in love with you. And it feels wonderful."
He bridged the distance and kissed her.
13
The moment Tom's lips touched hers, Caryn was lost. Her anger fizzled out with every word he uttered. She wanted to stay angry. Wanted to not believe anything he had to say, but throughout his whole explanation, Tom kept his gaze fixed on her. Not once did it waver from her.
Could she trust him?
Tom broke the kiss and a little moan escaped her. "I know it's a lot to ask," he started, and it took a second for her to shake the haze clouding her mind to understand what he was saying. "But do you believe me? Do I have a chance at being forgiven?"
Caryn needed a clear mind to think, so she pulled away from his embrace. Getting up, she walked over to French doors and gazed out at the pool, the water sparkling in the sunlight.
Would she be stupid and still gu
llible to believe him?
"I don't know, Tom. I want to but, hell, my judgment in men has been off. How can I trust you?"
Tom stood and headed for her front door. He couldn't be leaving, could he? Why would he do that after baring his soul and saying he was falling in love with her?
"Stop what you're thinking right now, Caryn. I know exactly how I can make you believe me. Don't move. I'll be back in ten minutes."
With that he was out the door before she could ask any more questions. How she wished she could pick up the phone and call one of her girlfriends to talk through the situation she found herself in. Unfortunately, it was late in Sydney and, most likely, her friends had gone to bed ages ago.
When it came to business, she had handled all the initial negotiations of the sale. When things started to get serious she'd spoken to her dad and called in the lawyers.
But after the whole situation with Jasper and Corey, not to mention the online dating disasters she'd endured on this trip, how could she possibly trust her taste in men?
Oh God, what would've happened if Tom hadn't been at Casa Blanca Resort? She'd have spent the last two weeks feeling sorry for herself for being stood up, when in fact, the guy she'd made the arrangements with didn't exist at all. How ironic that the picture this Brad Jones used had been Tom's and he was sitting at the bar when she walked in. What were the chances? Maybe Cupid or fate had finally decided to play nice with her. Caryn couldn't deny it any longer either. She was falling for Tom. That’s why what he’d done had hurt her more than what Corey and Jasper had done to her. Hadn't she experienced more highs with Tom by just kissing him than she'd ever felt with Jasper? And she'd fancied herself in love with Jasper.
A knock at the door pulled her from her jumbled thoughts. She walked over to the front door and opened it, her heart skipping a beat at the sight of Tom standing next to another tall man. A person she hadn't seen with Tom at all this trip and didn't recognize from the photos online.
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