Resurgent

by Brynley Blake

  “This is where we’re staying?”

  “Only the best for my baby,” he says with a wink, reminding me we have a role to play. “How about a kiss?”

  The last thing I want to do is kiss him and torture myself with everything that will never be, but the cab driver is beaming at us expectantly, and I realize I can’t refuse him. We’re supposed to be newlyweds. My heart starts thumping as I lean in. Liam, damn him, doesn’t make it any easier. He doesn’t make any move toward me. He just watches me, a faint smile on his sensual lips, his blue eyes silently daring me to go through with the kiss. I quickly graze my mouth over his. There.

  But before I can pull away, his hand is on the back of my head, pulling me back to him. He kisses me this time, his lips gentle but insistent. I’m powerless to move, to breathe, to do anything but savor the feel of his lips on mine as my mouth opens to him as if it has a mind of its own. With a low growl of pleasure, he slips his tongue inside, exploring my lips and teeth and tongue with a slow sensuality that has my blood thrumming. When he finally breaks the kiss, my breath is coming in little huffs.

  “That’s a good start,” he adds with another wink and a grin. I blush. But every nerve ending in my body is singing the “Hallelujah” chorus, even though I know he’s just pretending. He holds out his arm for me. “Shall we?”

  I tuck my hand into the crook of his arm as we walk into the lobby of the hotel. He checks us in as Mr. and Mrs. Tyler Walsh, making a point of mentioning it’s our honeymoon and asking for the most private villa. The man at the check-in desk hands us our key and signals to the bellboy, but Liam waves him away. Instead, I follow him as we wind our way down the sand-and-stone path carved into the hill of the jungle, trying not to gape.

  “This is amazing!”

  I’ve stepped into the Garden of Eden. This beautiful place is a hidden paradise, thick and lush with vegetation. Clumps of green fruit dangle from banana trees and brightly colored birds chatter in the trees. This is no posh manmade resort with immaculately kept grounds. The round villas are thatched with straw and look like they are part of the surrounding jungle, and the various amenities we pass—a deep blue infinity pool, an outdoor restaurant and bar, a hut with a primitive wooden sign carved with the word “spa”—seamlessly blend in with the surroundings.

  The beach is secluded and small—just a crescent of sand at the edge of the trees—and protected on either side by an outcropping of rocks. Peaceful, almost wild and untamed in its beauty, it kisses an ocean of deep sapphire blue.

  We stop in front of a round, straw-thatched bungalow that’s the last stop on the path, and as far as we can get from the main part of the resort without being in the jungle proper. “This is us,” Liam says. He unlocks the door, but just as I start to step inside, he sweeps me off my feet and into his arms.

  “Wh-what are you doing?”

  “Carrying you across the threshold.” He looks down at me, his lips twitching. “For a wedding planner, you’re surprisingly ignorant about the whole getting married process.”

  The door clicks shut behind us, and I’m suddenly hyperaware of the feel of his hard, unyielding chest, the scent of him, and the fact that we’re alone in a romantic hotel room in the middle of paradise. Oh God. I’ve got to stop this.

  “No one can see us anymore. You can put me down now.”

  He ignores me, carrying me through the gorgeous villa and up the stairs into the bedroom. Oh, bloody hell. There are flower petals everywhere—marking the path to the large, curtained bed that dominates the room, tucked into the silver bowl that holds a chilled bottle of champagne, and spelling out the word “love” on the white canopy bed. If this was actually my honeymoon, it would be impossibly romantic. With a guy who ignites my senses but is absolutely off-limits, it’s just impossible.

  “Put me down!” I push against his chest but it’s like trying to move granite. Changing tactics, I pound his bicep with my fist. “Ouch.”

  He drops me unceremoniously on the bed, and the rose petals scatter. Before I can move, he’s hovering over me, his arms braced on either side of me, his face so close I can feel his breath. “Just wanted to make sure our fake marriage got off on the right foot.” He grins. “So, Mrs. Walsh. Shall we consummate our marriage now or later?”

  I try to channel Gemma, searching for something clever and flirty and provocative to say, but all I come up with is, “Um…” Dammit, Charlotte, you can do better than that, my inner voice chides.

  He flops onto his side next to me, his head propped up on his hand. “Relax, sweetheart. I was just teasing you.”

  Right.

  “You’re the wedding planner who doesn’t do relationships, and me…” He sighs, rolling onto his back, hands behind his head as he looks up at the ceiling. “There was no room in my life for a woman before all this happened. There certainly isn’t now. Well…other than just for pleasure. There’s always room for that. So your virtue’s safe.” He looks over at me and grins wickedly. “Unless, of course, you’re game for some no-strings-attached sex.”

  I wonder if things would have been different if we’d had this conversation that night in Playa. But really, it’s what my head has known all along. I’d just let my heart be swayed by that simultaneously sweet- and dirty-talking mouth of his. His mouth was pretty good other places too…

  I clear my throat, reminding myself he doesn’t remember any of that. And there certainly isn’t going to be a repeat of it. I need to stop torturing myself with the memories and wishful thinking. He’s not interested in anything more than a little harmless flirtation. Two can play that game. As long as I remember it’s just that—a game.

  “Hmmmmm.” I pretend to consider it, taking the opportunity to run my hands experimentally over his hard biceps. “Nah. I’m good.”

  “Don’t worry about my ego,” he says, but he’s laughing, and I know it would take a lot more than your average, uptight wedding planner to put even the slightest dent his ego. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

  Unfortunately, I do. Of course, there’s no way I’m telling him that.

  “Best sex of your life.” He waggles his eyebrows at me comically.

  “No doubt,” I say, trying to sound flippant as I slip out from under him and sit up, straightening my shirt and smoothing my hair. “But you’re really not my type.”

  He arches an eyebrow. “No?”

  “Definitely not.” Gorgeous, take-charge alpha males with washboard abs and carved muscles are so not my thing.

  “And what exactly is your type, Miss Windsor?” He’s teasing me again.

  “My perfect guy is sweet, accommodating, solid, dependable, and predictable.” I take a perverse pleasure in deliberately describing the antithesis of the man lying next to me.

  He yawns. “Sounds boring.”

  “Just because you don’t take anything seriously, that doesn’t mean what I want is boring. I like stability and routine. But most importantly, I like to be the one in control.”

  His eyes are dancing. “Is that so?”

  “Actually, yes. I don’t need some hotshot Navy SEAL who thinks he’s God’s gift to women.”

  “So is that a no? Or…”

  “Yes,” I say, laughing. That smile of his could charm the white off of rice.

  “Oh! Yes?” He’s on me in an instant, nibbling my ear exaggeratedly. It’s supposed to be funny, but I still feel an erotic tug in my belly.

  “No!” I push at his chest, giggling. “Stop.” He grabs my wrists and pins them over my head, then bends to grasp my earlobe with his teeth. He bites down, and my stomach drops deliciously in response. “If you don’t get off me, I’m going to knee you in the balls again.”

  Laughing, he stands up, his hands held up in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. But the offer’s open if you change your mind.” He doesn’t give me a chance to answer. “Let’s eat. I’m sure you’re starving.” Just like that, he’s already moved on, while my pulse is still jumping erratically.

&
nbsp; “A little,” I admit. “But what I want more than anything is a shower.”

  His eyes soften. “Go ahead. I’ll order room service while you clean up. I think we should try to stay out of sight as much as possible. This place is pretty secluded, and we’ve covered our tracks, but there’s no point in tempting fate. What do you want?”

  Um, I’ll take one hot Navy SEAL with a side of dominance. “Anything is fine.”

  I take my time in the shower, savoring the steaming hot spray from the rain shower head and the fragrant floral-scented bubbles washing away the nightmare of the last three days. Being with Liam—his easygoing charm and confidence and teasing banter—has distracted me from thinking about the ordeal I’ve been through over the last few days, but now that I’m alone, it’s harder to keep my emotions at bay. I keep remembering the men who grabbed me, the tip of the knife pressing into my skin, the terrifying certainty I was going to die having wasted my whole life waiting for it to begin…

  I take a deep breath, scrubbing harder with the rough natural sponge provided by the hotel, and firmly push the memories away. I learned a long time ago that the best way to deal with bad things is to move on. Dwelling on them doesn’t change anything. More than half an hour later, I emerge from the bathroom, my hair still damp from the shower and my emotions firmly under control again. The wall of windows in the bedroom are actually doors, and Liam has opened all of them so that the outdoor terrace has become an extension of the romantic bedroom. There’s a hammock strung between two tree trunks, and two chairs on either side of a small table covered with platters of food. He’s waited for me to eat. “Sorry.” I sit down at the table in the chair across from Liam.

  He stares at me so long, I start to squirm in my seat. What is it about those piercing blue eyes of his that seem to see all the way to my soul?

  “Why are you looking at me like that? I said I was sorry. You didn’t have to wait for me. It just felt so good I didn’t want to get out.”

  “You don’t need to apologize. Sorry to stare. I’m just not used to seeing you look so—Never mind.” He stands up abruptly. “You want a drink?”

  “Yes!” I say a little too vehemently. I’m starting to think alcohol may be the only thing that gets me through this week.

  Without asking what I want, he makes me my favorite—vodka with cranberry juice—and I wonder if it was just a lucky guess. It had to be. How could he possibly remember that small detail when he doesn’t remember anything from the last six months.

  “Eat.”

  He’s ordered enough food for an army—fat shrimp in some delicious-smelling sauce served over a mound of rice with rings of pineapple, some vegetable fajitas, and a warm lobster salad.

  “I didn’t know what you liked,” he says.

  “You did good.” I pile my plate high with a little of everything and dig in, suddenly ravenous. “This place is amazing,” I say between bites.

  “You ever been to this part of Mexico?”

  I shake my head. “I’ve never been to Mexico at all, other than when we all went to Playa del Carmen last Thanksgiving.”

  “Damn. I wish I remembered that.”

  “It wasn’t that memorable,” I assure him quickly. “Just your basic vacation with friends. Drinking, lying on the beach. A trip to a Mayan ruin and snorkeling at one of the cenotes.” Holding my legs apart and tormenting me with your tongue until I screamed your name and you had to cover my mouth with your hand so we didn’t alert the authorities. I swallow hard. “You know. The usual.”

  “Still…” He shakes his head. “The doctor in India said my memory might come back in pieces, or not at all.”

  That reminds me…

  “I’ll go get the bucket list.” I start to stand, but his hand on my arm stops me.

  “Sit.” My butt automatically plops back down. How does he do that? “Eat. We’ll look at it together later. Do you ever relax?”

  “I relax all the time.”

  “Yeah? How? What do you like to do for fun?”

  I honestly can’t remember the last time I did anything for fun, but I’m not about to admit that to him. “Work takes a lot of my time, since most people get married on the weekends. But since I love what I do, it doesn’t feel like work. But I know how to relax,” I say defensively. “I go to the gym every morning before work, and then I treat myself to a Starbucks peppermint mocha afterward on Fridays. And I’ve been taking a Krav Maga class with Gemma. And, um, I like to organize things,” I finish lamely.

  His lips are twitching. “You’re right. You better stop slacking off, or you’re gonna turn into a deadbeat.”

  “Laugh all you want, but there’s nothing wrong with having aspirations and working hard to attain them.”

  “Agreed. But there’s nothing wrong with enjoying life along the way. When was the last time you went on vacation before Playa del Carmen?”

  “I, um… Vacations weren’t really part of my childhood. And I was on scholarship to Wake Forest so there wasn’t a lot of money left over for trips in college either. I’ve been too busy building our business to do much since, but after everything that’s happened in the last few days, I’ve decided I’m going to make up for it,” I say resolutely. “Soon. In fact, I’m going to buy one of those maps that you scratch off all the places you’ve been. Starting with a beach on every continent.” In the distance, the sound of the surf calls to me like a siren. The sound is soothing, and it feels like home. “Playa del Carmen, and now here, is making me realize that I could get used to being at the beach.”

  “You still mad at me for pretending to be dead?”

  “No.”

  “Anything else we need to clear up so I don’t have to worry about the family jewels while I sleep? You didn’t look so happy about the ring.”

  “I wasn’t mad, although you spent way too much money on a ring that doesn’t mean anything, even if it wasn’t your money. But I understand we need to make this whole ruse believable. It’s more that I don’t really believe in marriage.”

  He leans back in the chair, arms crossed, grinning like an idiot. “You mentioned that before. How can you be a wedding planner who doesn’t believe in marriage?”

  “I didn’t have a shining example. My parents’ marriage was horribly dysfunctional. My father was abusive and my mother was an alcoholic.”

  He takes my hand in his, rubbing the rough pad of his thumb gently over the inside of my wrist. “I’m sorry.”

  I pull my hand away and take a deep breath. Why did I just tell him that? And why was he so sweet about it? Uncomfortable about opening up to him, I revert back to safe ground—talking business. “It’s fine for other people. But not for me. But I do believe in the power of careful planning and organization, and there’s nothing I love more than making the most stressful day of woman’s life go seamlessly.”

  Liam spears a piece of shrimp with his fork. “The most stressful day? I thought it was supposed to be the happiest day of a woman’s life.”

  “You have no idea how stressful it is! There’s endless preparation, the dress, the invites, the flowers, the cake, the venue for the reception. Which means seating charts and appetizers and table decorations and a million tiny details. All of which I handle so the bride doesn’t have to. But do I want to be a bride? No thank you. Marriage is an outdated idea invented hundreds of years ago to make women submit to men.”

  Something dark and primal flashes in his eyes. “Don’t knock it ’til you try it.”

  “Marriage?”

  “No, submitting to a man.”

  My breath catches. There’s no denying exactly what kind of submitting he means. I’d seen a hint of it in Playa, and it had set a thousand tiny fires simmering in my blood that have never fully been extinguished.

  He abruptly stands. “I’m going to go shower and clean up.”

  While Liam’s in the shower, I explore the rest of the villa. It’s two stories, and built into the side of a hill. The terrace downstairs is even bigger
and more luxurious than the upstairs one. It has its own small plunge pool and hot tub overlooking the jungle and a couple of hammocks. I can hear the calming sound of the surf in the distance.

  I’m leaning against the wood rail staring out at the sliver of ocean I can see through the trees when Liam walks out. I turn, and my heart stutters at the sight of him. He’s shaved off the beard and looks exactly like I remember him, but with longer hair, which makes him look rugged and even sexier. He also has nothing on but a white hotel towel wrapped around his hips, revealing his smooth, muscular chest, defined abs, and a bulge beneath the towel that leaves nothing to the imagination. I try to look away, but it’s hard. Pun intended.

  “What do you think?” He nods at the big wrapround terrace.

  “It’s a huge dick.” Horrified, I stammer, “I mean deck.” Dammit.

  He laughs, and despite my embarrassment, the sound loosens something in me, reminding me not to take things so seriously.

  “We have our own pool and hot tub!” I add.

  He nods. “If we’re stuck here for a few days, we might as well enjoy it.”

  “The only thing better would be if we could actually go to the beach, but this is the next best thing.”

  He stares at me for one long minute, and I wish I knew what was going on behind those fathomless blue eyes. “Go put your swimsuit on. We’re going to the beach.”

  “But you said we should lay low.”

  He squints out at the beach, then back at me, considering. “This place is pretty remote, and I haven’t seen a lot of people. Should be okay.”

  “And if it’s not?”

  “Then I’ll take care of it.” His voice is full of steely resolve, and I have no doubt he can protect us from anything.

  “Are you sure?” I ask, but I’m already heading inside to get my swimsuit. I can practically feel the soft sand between my toes.

  “Positive. It’s time you learn how to have a good time.”

  Chapter Six