Dylan smiled at her. He was a nice-looking man the size of a bulldozer who’d given up on hair and went for the shaved-head look. “So, you fix cars?”
“Yep,” Dylan said, reaching for her hand across the other two bridesmaids.
“And you’re—”
“Duncan’s cousin.”
Of course he was. And then the gears clicked into place. Oh. Meet her real date for the weekend.
That seemed about right. See, this was her world—fetching wedding gowns and planning seaweed wraps and dancing with the beefy cousin of the groom. Not high-seas secret missions with devastatingly handsome men who spoke softly to her in the moonlight.
Oh, why hadn’t she said yes to Luke?
“Gotta go, sis.” As one, Bridgett and her two skinny bridesmaids rose from the table. “Hey, I don’t want my bran muffin.” Bridgett took the muffin and dropped it onto Scarlett’s plate. “Why don’t you have it? I know it’s not a Danish, but…” She winked again.
If Scarlett ran, she could probably make the noon ferry.
Lucia was going to die and Luke right along with her if he didn’t find Scarlett.
Lucia’s scream sent him flying out of his bed in the early morning. He’d untangled himself from his covers, clad only in his dress pants, and lunged for the door, throwing it open just as Lucia opened her mouth again.
And no wonder.
Still thrashing on the decking outside her room, blood oozing from the speared hole in its gut, a reef shark fought for its last breath.
And Lucia had nearly tripped over it. Now, she pressed her hands to her mouth and turned her wide gaze to Luke.
He reached out, yanked her away from the bloody, thrashing mass and pulled her to himself. “Are you okay?”
She clung to him, nodding.
“What is this?” Benito stood at the door, bare-chested in a pair of boxers. He glanced at the dying shark, then at Luke.
Who released Lucia.
Benito’s eyes narrowed. “What is going on?”
Lucia launched herself at Benito, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I found it when I came out—it scared me.” She looked up at Benito and Luke had no problem believing her.
But Benito’s eyes were glued to Luke. “What are you doing here?”
“I heard a scream…I just got here.”
Benito’s eyes narrowed for a moment, then he stared at the shark. It had stopped moving. “Where did this come from?”
“I don’t know.” Lucia still had her arms around Benito, holding on as if she meant it.
Benito nudged the animal with his toe. “Who would do this?” He looked at Luke.
Luke held up his hands. “I didn’t hear anything.”
Benito turned to Lucia, “You’re trembling.”
“I…it just surprised me.”
“I’m sorry, Lucia. My family has many enemies, some who would not want me to marry an American.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Someone is on this boat who shouldn’t be, and we will find them if we have to do a background search on every guest. You will be safe on our wedding day.”
Luke glanced at Lucia. Could it be that Benito thought someone might be out to get him?
Benito turned to Luke. “Where is your woman?”
His—oh, Scarlett. “Back at the resort.”
“Fetch her—I don’t want Lucia to be alone today.” He kissed her again, then pressed her inside their cabin. But his gaze stayed on Luke. “And you. Keep your hands to yourself.”
Luke shoved his hands into his pockets. Benito shut the door.
Background checks would not be good. Sure, Luke’s had been washed for this mission and Scarlett probably had the only clean background check out of all the guests on this yacht. But if Luke didn’t get her information and get it to Artyom, Stryker International’s techno-geek to wash and doctor, Benito would notice a giant hole in her resumé, the kind that didn’t include having lived with Lucia.
Luke grabbed his shirt, slipped on his flip-flops and climbed down the stairs to the main deck.
“I need to get to the mainland,” he said to one of the two watchdogs standing guard by the launch.
“We’ll be there in an hour.” He pressed his hand on Luke’s chest. “You can wait.”
You can wait.
Yeah, he’d waited, his stomach nearly inside out as the yacht motored to shore. He’d sat in the sun on the deck, prepping for his conversation with Scarlett, remembering the firm grip she’d had on the soap dish.
Like she might want to bean him with it.
Hey, Scarlett, remember me?
Oh, nice. Charming. As if she could forget him—well, maybe she could, but he certainly wouldn’t forget her.
No, she’d been embedded in his brain for a good, long portion of last night, the way she watched him as he motored away, something like longing on her face.
He hadn’t known what to do with the feelings that look churned up.
I know that we said we could probably handle this, that we didn’t need you.
As far as ideas went, the one he was currently entertaining ranked as colossally bad. He’d been out in the sun too long if he believed that talking Scarlett into masquerading as Lucia’s maid of honor—even as a companion with whom to sunbathe—might be a remotely reasonable option.
Only, Benito seemed pretty convinced that he had been today’s shark target. And Scarlett, no doubt, had the background of Bambi, something that could work in their favor. See, Lucia found a dead shark outside her room today, and she needs a friend.
Yes, he could imagine Scarlett’s face when he got to that part. And the part after it. So, today, we’ll need you to hang out on the yacht with Lucia and pretend to be her friend while they check our backgrounds. Oh, and be on the lookout for more sharks.
Claudio’s conversation hovered in the back of his mind. Oh, how I love the sea.
What if he just grabbed Lucia and made a run for it? It would dismantle three years of undercover work and alert the entire Sanchez clan, far and wide, and they’d make it as far as the Cancun airport.
I promise I won’t let anything happen to you, Scarlett.
And then she’d look at him with those green eyes, disbelief in them, because he’d done an oh-so-stellar job of earning her trust thus far. He’d be lucky if she didn’t try to slam the door in his face.
Or, on his foot, which he’d shove into the door to make sure that didn’t happen.
Because, really, he did need her. At least for about six more hours, until he could figure out her airtight alibi explaining why she suddenly ditched the wedding of her best friend.
He wasn’t above staging an all-out fight. A brilliant breakup in front of the entire Sanchez clan, preferably because he’d betrayed Scarlett with an onboard fling. However, that would most likely get him thrown off the boat.
No, he needed to make it seem as if she had done the betraying, because his getting kicked off the yacht wouldn’t help anyone.
Especially Scarlett and Lucia.
Maybe he could make Lucia kick Scarlett off the boat. But what could make the bride oust her best friend from the wedding?
He could use a few ideas right now. He even lifted his face to the hot sun, as if he hoped heaven might be listening.
What was he thinking? God hadn’t listened to him since the day he’d broken one of the Cardinal Rules.
Like, do not commit adultery.
Yeah, Luke might as well resign himself to the fact that God wasn’t going to trust him again, thanks.
So, instead, he sat on the deck, wishing he’d brought his sunblock, hoping Scarlett would at least listen as he jammed his foot in her door and begged for a second chance.
The yacht finally docked at the far side of the resort, and Luke did his best not to run until he had rounded the side of the hotel. Then, he took off down the coral pathway to the villas.
He knocked on her door, putting his hand on the frame then removing it. Then putting it back.
The maid opened the door, holding a handful of towels. “Si?”
“I’m looking for the woman who is staying here. Is she around?”
“No, señor, she left.”
“When will she be back?” As if the maid would know.
“No, no, señor. Left.” The woman flipped to Spanish. “She took her bags and moved out.”
“She left. Left?”
“Si, señor.”
Left? Scarlett had left the island? But what about her sister’s wedding?
Luke turned away from the door and walked out into the sun. Of course she left. Because that’s what the people he really needed did in his life.
Because that’s what he deserved.
SIX
“Why can’t I have the coffee and chocolate wrap?” Scarlett stood on the wooden mat in the private room, her hands over her upper body while the spa technician applied, as one would butter, a paste of sea mud on her torso. The woman had already mudded her legs, wrapping them in plastic. Given one good push, she just might topple over. Now, she attacked Scarlett’s stomach. Scarlett averted her eyes.
“Because this pulls the toxins out of your body. You’ll be five pounds thinner, I promise.” Bridgett lay on her back, staring at the ceiling after being slathered in yogurt.
The other two bridesmaids had moved on to Mayan massage and facials. Thankfully, Scarlett had started with a pedicure, her toes now a lovely passion pink, something that at least made her feel pretty while encased in mud.
And she might have forgone the mud wrap altogether if her sister hadn’t hooked her by the arm, trotted her through the tiled hallways of Dream On Spa, with the aromatic smells, the rush of waterfalls, the piped-in harp music. Or perhaps that was live. Could be, since the spa cost a small fortune—or rather, cost Bridgett a small fortune, thanks to her handing over her credit card to Scarlett. But a woman who had a penthouse in New York and a chateau in France could probably afford to treat her bridesmaids to a little luxury, right?
“The wrap will help you get into the dress. Debbie was a bit less, well, hippy, than you are. So we had to take your dress in for her after…well, you know.”
“Thank you for that reminder.” Scarlett lifted her arms as the technician wound her in plastic wrap. “How many times do I have to apologize? I agree I shouldn’t have had that champagne. It went right to my head.”
“I’ve already forgiven you.” Bridgett’s plastic crinkled as she peeked out from one of the cucumber slices covering her eyelids. “Really.” She gave Scarlett a smile that made the drying yogurt on her face crack. “Why do you think I set you up with Dylan?”
Payback? “I don’t need a date, Bridge. Really. I can do just fine on my own.”
Bridgett didn’t move. “If you were doing just fine on your own, you would’ve never thought you and Duncan were actually an item. You made that relationship into more than it was because you’re afraid of a real one.”
Scarlett opened her mouth, but apparently Bridgett had more to say.
“You spend every night with your nose stuck in a novel, dreaming up some hero, when you should be going out and finding one in real life.”
“I don’t need a hero—”
“You know what I mean. A man. A real man, not a make-believe character.”
“And that’s Dylan?”
“He’s Duncan’s cousin. And yes, he’s very nice.”
“He has rough hands.” Even as she said it, the memory of Luke’s hand in hers swept through her mind, his strength as he’d led her across the yacht, as he’d helped her onto the dock. She closed her fists as the technician began to massage the mud onto her arms.
“Dylan has mechanic’s hands. But he’s very nice. Give him a chance.”
“I wish you’d stop setting me up, Bridgett. I’m not a charity case.”
Bridgett drew in a breath. “Maybe I just want to make sure you don’t have any relapses.”
Oh, why hadn’t she taken the ferry? She could be sitting on an airplane right now.
No, why hadn’t she simply agreed to help Luke last night? Agreed to watch Lucia’s back? How hard could it have been? And maybe, for once, she’d actually live the romance novel instead of just read it. Not that Luke would be truly interested in her, but well, they would have pretended.
That might have been better than having her dance card filled by Dylan from Davenport.
“There won’t be any relapses. I promise, I am not in love with Duncan.” Anymore. “And I know he didn’t love me.” Even if he did. Maybe. But probably not. “And most of all, I want you to have the most wonderful day of your life.” Really.
Really.
Bridgett smiled. “Thanks, sis. I know we’ve never been close, but the fact that you would come and help me on such short notice…” She removed a cucumber. “Maybe I overreacted by booting you off my wedding party. It was just so…unexpected. One second you were making a toast, the next, accusing me of stealing your boyfriend. As hard as it was, I had to keep the big picture in mind. My perfect day versus your pain. I really didn’t have a choice. I’m sure Mom and Dad would have understood, too. They always saw the big picture.” She gave her a sad smile and returned the cucumber.
The big picture. As when they’d uprooted their ten-year-old from her life in Minneapolis so their teenage daughter could pursue a life as a runway model? When her mother had moved to Milan for a year so Bridgett could get a better toehold in the modeling world, and sent Scarlett to boarding school? How about when her father used her camp tuition to fly them all over to Paris to watch Bridgett’s first big show, only to leave her in the hotel room while they “networked”?
And they certainly saw the big picture when they’d listed Aunt Gretchen as her guardian in case of their sudden deaths. Spinster Aunt Gretchen, the hoarder who lived in a bungalow in south Rochester, hidden away behind stacks and stacks of used books.
At least after their accident, Scarlett could hide herself away, lose herself inside a different world. Every time she picked up a book, she saw herself as a new heroine, caught up in a new adventure. And yes, she loved Aunt Gretchen, despite her idiosyncrasies. She might have only known how to cook chicken potpies, but at least Aunt Gretchen never treated her like leftovers.
In fact, with Aunt Gretchen, Scarlett felt like the center of the world.
Probably how Bridgett felt every single day.
What would that be like? For someone to see only you? For all the pining she had done over Duncan, she’d seen only Bridgett in his eyes at the engagement party.
That’s why Scarlett had grabbed that second glass of champagne. Everything sort of blurred after that.
“Of course I understand why you replaced me, Bridgett.” What else could she say?
The technician wrapped Scarlett in a large towel then helped her ease back onto the padded table. She set two cucumber slices on Scarlett’s closed eyes. “Twenty minutes. Don’t move.”
“Can’t you just feel the minerals seeping into your pores?” Bridgett said.
She tried not to imagine tiny bugs eating away at her skin. She just wanted a shower.
“I can’t wait for the party tonight. You did talk to the chef, right? About the menu?”
Talk to the chef—check.
“Would it be okay if I ditched the party, Bridge? I’m really tired.” In fact, this mud only made her more exhausted, pressing into her, heating her to her bones—what was in this stuff?
“You’re going to miss the party? For what, a book?” Bridgett laughed. “C’mon and live a little.”
“I live just fine, thank you. I enjoy my novels.”
“Your novels are wrecking your life. It’s why you haven’t been able to settle down, find the right job, go after the man you want. It’s why you’re a temp, and still single, Scarlett. You think at any moment, you’re going to be caught up in some high-seas adventure, or even a spy story, and that suddenly you’ll become some sort of secret agent—”
“No, I
don’t—”
“Oh, please. Like I didn’t see the pile of suspense novels in your room.”
“That was years ago. I don’t have…well, I read other genres now. Like, uh, romances.”
“Which is your other problem. You have in your head the perfect man, this superhero who will appear out of nowhere, march in and sweep you into his arms. I’ve got news for you, sweetie. He ain’t comin’.”
Her voice held just enough edge for Scarlet to wonder if they were still talking about her.
“No, he’s just a figment of your imagination. And I promise, if he does walk in, he’s got an agenda and is packing lies. So I think you need to figure out that the best guy for you is Duncan’s cousin Dylan from Davenport, who may not be a superhero, but he’ll come home every night and be the guy you can count on. That’s reality, Scarlett, not some hunky guy out of a romance novel.”
Scarlett didn’t even know where to begin. Maybe she’d start with the obvious. “I don’t want Dylan. And I don’t need a romance hero. I just want a guy who makes me feel like…well, like I could be that girl in the books. Someone strong and capable and beautiful. Someone who he believes in, and who trusts him back. And it wouldn’t hurt if he had strong hands.”
“Fine, live in your fantasy. It’s never going to happen.”
Scarlett took a long breath, hating how her sister’s words sank into her, found her bones.
“I can’t believe I’ve found you. I’ve been looking everywhere.”
The voice was very, very familiar. And welcome. Too welcome. What? How—
She reached for one of her cucumber slices, her arm crinkling against the plastic wrap as she moved.
Luke. He stood above her, looking at her as if she might be toxic.
“Hi—”
But she didn’t get more than that out before he reached under her and swept her into his arms. “I need you, Scarlett,” he said, and carried her from the room.
“Nice digs. What did you do to get banished to the tower, Rapunzel?” Luke stood at her window, staring down at the town of Isla Mujeres, yellow-and-red motor scooters dodging golf carts, blue boats docked at the pier, sailboats floating in the harbor.
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