“I-I don’t know. It’s all happened so fast.”
“Don’t you want to be with me?” Alarm is written across his face.
I open my mouth to reply when a piercing voice pops our bubble. “Oh, it’s you two!”
Jake drops his hand instantly. We turn to see the couple from outside the church yesterday, beaming at us. Their faces are bright red from the sun, their outfits just as matchy-matchy as the day before, right down to their bright yellow sneakers.
“It’s Taylor and Jake, right? Phyllis and Sydney, from Wisconsin.” She grabs poor Silent Sydney around the arm and pulls him closer to us, as though his face will jog our memories about something that happened only twenty-four hours ago.
Before everything changed between Jake and me.
“Of course. How are you both?” I smile at them.
“Oh, we are just super. We’ve had the best time, haven’t we, Sydney?” She doesn’t wait for him to reply. “We did a half day trip up the coast yesterday, as you know, and let me tell you …”
I nod and smile, probably looking a lot like one of those bobblehead dolls. I’m not taking in a word. All I can think about is Jake—and whether to give in to my feelings for him or run for the hills. Right now, I’m emotionally about half way to the hills and half way back to his hotel room with him.
“. . . and you know what Sydney’s like. Always talking, telling stories. But we’re here now, and that’s all that matters. Isn’t it, Sydney?”
Silent Sydney, the alleged talker, nods and smiles.
“That sounds great, Phyllis. Good for you.” Jake slips his arm around my shoulder. “We’re meant to be at the beach with my sister and her fiancé. I’m sorry, but we’ve really got to go.”
“We won’t hold you up, then. Oh, but just look at you. I have said it before: you are such an adorable couple. Aren’t they an adorable couple, Sydney?” She glances down at my left hand. “Oh, but I don’t see a ring on it. That’s what they say, isn’t it? ‘On it?’ We used to say, ‘getting engaged,’ but I guess we’re all old fashioned and whatnot now, aren’t we, Sydney? It’s all the same thing, though, isn’t it? Getting married.”
I glance at Jake. I fully expect him to look like he wants to throw himself off the pier right about now. The idea of getting married must scare the living heck out of him. Instead, he simply smiles down at me and gives me a wink.
Phyllis clearly takes this as a “yes.” “Oh, that’s so marvelous! Isn’t that marvelous, Sydney?”
Sydney smiles and nods at us once more.
“You two have got to promise me you’ll have kids. Two gorgeous people like you? It’d be a crime if you didn’t have them.”
If the idea of marrying me didn’t freak Jake out, having kids has got to do the trick. I stifle a smile, almost enjoying this weird exchange, and glance back up at Jake.
Again, he surprises me by tightening his grip around me, his own smile broad. “We’ll be sure to have lots of them. Who knows? Maybe we could even call one of them Phyllis?”
I offer him a questioning glance, my eyes almost popping out of my head. Could this really be what he wants?
Phyllis claps her hands together. “Did you two just decide to have a baby?” She doesn’t wait for a reply. “Well don’t let us stand in your way. Are you ovulating, honey? Oh, if you are, there’s not a moment to lose.”
I let out a surprised laugh at the total craziness of this conversation. Jake and I married? Jake and I having a baby—called Phyllis, apparently? What is going on?
“Did you hear that, honey?” Jake says to me. “If you’re ovulating, we don’t have a moment to lose.”
I need this conversation over, stat! “Oh, I’m not sure about ovulating and such, but you both have a great day, now. Bye bye.” I wind my arm around Jake’s waist and pull him away from the couple—not an easy thing to do when he’s a foot taller and about a hundred pounds heavier than me.
“Bye! And congratulations!” Phyllis calls out.
Standing on the edge of the beach, I stop and turn to face him. We stand at a safe distance, in case Tim or Ash should see us. “Jake, what’s going on? Marriage? Babies? You’re kidding, right?”
His eyes are warm and soft. “Do you have to ask? I told you, I’ve wanted to be with you for a long time. What about you? I mean, I’ve told you how I feel,” he leads.
“Me? Oh.” After his reaction to Phyllis, my mind is racing faster than a Formula One car. I want to ask if this is forever, but fear stops me, clamming my mouth shut. Because I can’t have anything less than forever from him, not with what I would have to risk to be with him. “I guess it’s all so new—but amazing. Definitely amazing.”
“Amazing is a good place to start.”
I let out a laugh. It’s filled with nerves and lust and a huge dollop of fear. “It sure is.”
“Forget the beach. Let’s go back to my room for some more of those sexy gymnastics we’re so good at.”
A shot of electricity drives through my body. I’m utterly powerless to say no. I nod, my throat tight. Together, we walk down the beach.
“We’ll give it half an hour and then go,” he whispers in my ear, his breath tickling my neck.
“Okay.” How can I say no? My head might be a mass of whirring, conflicting thoughts, but my body knows exactly what it wants: him.
“Harrison! Taylor! Over here!” Tim gestures at us to join him and Ash at the water’s edge.
“Be right there!” Jake calls out. “You coming?”
“Sure. In a minute. I’m just going to . . . soak it all up.” I need a moment. A moment away from Jake. A moment to try to collect my scattered thoughts. I watch him jog effortlessly across the beach, the muscles in his strong legs rippling, his bulky arms pumping back and forth at his sides.
Jake is one of my closest friends, a man I’ve always adored, always wondered “what if?” Could this really work? Could we really be together? I watch him, laughing with Tim and Ash, glancing back up the beach at me. I give him a wave, my heart contracting. Kosmic Kandi said the right guy would be outside the tent, his eyes the color of a tropical ocean, his shirt blood-red orange.
Was two out of three good enough?
I wander down the beach toward them. I look out to the deep blue sea at a collection of speedboats dragging people behind them on large yellow bananas, engines roaring. I glance along the beach at a sea of people sunbathing, playing beach volleyball, having fun.
I let out a puff of air, trying to quell my inner turmoil. I want to be with Jake, oh so much, but for me, there’s so much more to lose. I’m teetering on the precipice, faced with the possibility of the soft landing of my dreams—or a painful topple to the hard, unforgiving ground below.
I shield my eyes from my sun, and that’s when I see them. A veritable sea of orange shirts, only about a hundred yards down the beach.
I blink a couple of times. Seriously? I’ve bought into Kosmic Kandi’s prediction so deeply, I’m having visual hallucinations now? I blink again. There’s a group of men, at least eight or nine of them, talking and laughing, familiar and relaxed with one another.
I let out a laugh, barely believing what’s unfolding before my eyes. It’s a smorgasbord of good looking men. And all of them—every single one—wearing an orange shirt.
A blood-red orange shirt.
CHAPTER 21
Jake
I reach the hotel, incapable of seeing straight. Of all the ways I imagined I would spend my final day in Cabo, watching the woman I’d opened my heart to only hours before flirting with other men was not one of them.
No.
Freaking.
Way.
Men in orange shirts. Like that tarot card reader or clairvoyant or whatever the hell she was told her about. A crapload of them, all happy to flirt back, all looking at her like she was some hot piece of ass. And she was lapping it all up with each and every one of them like she was some kind of horny cheerleader after a few too many at a keg party.<
br />
Taylor might have seen orange shirts, but I saw red. And there was no way in hell I was sticking around to watch it.
I pay the driver and step out of the cab, my anger simmering just under the surface, ready to erupt. I want to get that guy who’d put his hand on her arm by the scruff of the neck and show him who’s the boss. Show him Taylor’s mine. Mine and no one else’s.
Even if I have no clue if she really is.
I storm through the hotel reception, heading for my room. I need to cool off, push the last half an hour out of my head. Once in the room, I spot the swimming trunks I’d been wearing this morning. I let out a scornful laugh. Yeah, they’re on the floor where I’d discarded them while I had Taylor here with me.
The bed is still unmade, thanks to the “do not disturb” sign I’d hastily placed on the doorknob. I glance at the crumpled sheets and grind my teeth together.
What are you doing to me, Taylor Jennings? Just when it seems I can finally make her mine, she’s wrenched away from me by some stupid prediction about a guy in a goddamn orange shirt.
I kick off my shoes and pull my T over my head. I slip off my shorts and boxers and pull on my swimming trunks. I grab my key card and leave, allowing the door to close with a click behind me.
Once down in the recreation area, I stomp past the infinity pool. Getting into the pool where we had first exposed our feelings for one another this morning is a step too far down the masochistic lane for me right now. I choose instead to continue down to the beach. The salty water might be just what I need to cool off—and help wash Taylor away.
I plant my foot on the golden sand. It’s hot, and I didn’t think to bring shoes. I steel myself and then dash across the beach, my feet on fire by the time I reach the damp sand, the waves being sucked in and out on the shore. I wade out up to my waist then dive in under a whitecap. I come up for air for a brief moment before diving under the next wave and the next, making my progress out to the open water.
And then I swim. Rhythmic strokes, one-two-three-breathe, one-two-three-breathe. I push myself hard, trying to blot it all from my mind.
That kiss in the pool.
Taylor coming back to my room with me.
Taylor giving herself to me.
Taylor leaving me to go to those men.
I pause, treading water, no idea how long I’ve been swimming. I’ve swum past the bay where the hotel is and am nearing some rocks. I lean back and float in the water, looking up at the sky, breathing out.
I need to get a hold of myself. This feeling of being completely at someone else’s mercy is new, and I don’t like it one bit.
An image of Taylor with those men on the beach flashes before my eyes, and my blood begins to boil once more.
Maybe it would be easier to accept that Taylor can do what she wants? I’m not her keeper, I don’t own her. Hell, I’m not even her boyfriend. Really, I’m just a guy she had vacation sex with in Cabo.
I know the score, I’ve been there myself. It should be no big deal.
Only, this feels like a big deal, the biggest deal. And right now, it’s killing me.
The afternoon sun beats down relentlessly, and I’ve had enough of soaking in salty water. I begin the swim back to the beach, slower this time, my anger reduced to a low simmer, no longer threatening to burst out of me. I reach the shore and flop down on the wet sand. I catch my breath as waves wash over my feet.
I know what I need to do. I need to get back to San Francisco and concentrate on my restaurant.
Forget about Taylor.
I don’t know how long I lie on the sand, but the waves have long stopped washing over my feet, and the sky has a definite evening glow to it. I sit up and wrap my arms around my knees. I tense my jaw as I look out at the horizon. I know what I have to do. If she’s so hell-bent on finding this guy, I can’t stand in her way. No matter what I want from her, she’s made it as clear as day she doesn’t want me.
#MoveOn
Pushing myself up, I grab a towel from the cabana and thank the attendant. I start the trail back up to my room.
And that’s when I see her.
CHAPTER 22
Taylor
It’s got to be the understatement of the century to say Jake does not look happy. Even from this distance, I can tell how pissed he is. His muscles are flexed, his body rigid. It makes my insides want to curl up into a ball.
And I can’t blame him. What I did was wrong, even though I know exactly why I did it. Going to talk to those men in the blood-red orange shirts was my way of pushing Jake away. And it worked—a little too well by the looks of him right now.
I watch as he strides toward me, a scowl on his face. I swallow, my belly twisting into knots. As much as I tried to make myself believe one of those guys could be “the one,” right now I know none of them could ever be.
Right now, I know it’s the man walking toward me.
And it’s tearing my heart in two.
I watch as he bounds up the stairs, taking them two at a time with ease, his firm muscles rippling. He’s dressed in only his swimming trunks, his hair is messed up, and his skin is golden in the evening light. As he approaches, I can barely breathe. He’s so goddamn, undeniably hot. And with the things he’s said to me today, telling me how long he’s wanted to be with me? Well, this guy is not playing fair.
He comes to a stop in front of me. His proximity is more than a little disarming.
I open my mouth to speak then close it again.
As our eyes lock, something deep inside tells me beyond a whisper of a doubt I am his.
My heart expands, as though it could burst out of my chest. Every nerve ending in my body comes alive, a wonderful liquid warmth spreading through my belly.
It’s Jake. Jake is the one.
It takes all my strength not to wrap my arms around him and beg him to forgive me, to tell him I’m his. To forget what being with him puts at risk.
After a beat, he arches an eyebrow in expectation and the knowledge I’ve hurt him twists like a knife inside. “What do you want, Taylor?” His voice is gruff, harsh.
With a pang, I realize I actually miss him calling me Tay Tay, treating me like his kid sister’s friend.
“Jake, I’m sorry.”
His eyes narrow as his gaze intensifies. “You’re sorry.”
“I shouldn’t have left you on the beach like that. It was rude of me.”
He lets out a bitter laugh. “Rude?”
I bite hard onto my bottom lip. “Yes, and inconsiderate and not the way a friend should behave. Your friendship means so much to me.” I clench my fists at my side. “You mean so much to me.”
“Because that’s what we are; friends. Friends who had sex once in Mexico.” His tone has a bitter edge to it that makes my chest tighten.
“No. We’re more than that. I . . . Jake, I got scared.” I hang my head.
“Why did you do it?”
“Because of, you know, the thing.” Suddenly it all feels so ridiculous, chasing men in orange shirts, a figment of my imagination, planted by a woman pretending to be able to see my future.
“The thing?”
He’s not going to make this easy for me.
“Don’t be like this, Jake.”
“Like what? You’ve apologized to me, and all I’m asking is for an explanation. It shouldn’t be that hard.”
I know he’s punishing me, and I cannot blame him in the least.
“Like I told you, I’m meant to meet a man. Those guys were in orange shirts.”
I almost expect him to react the way he did when I first told him about the prediction, maybe roll his eyes, laugh, mock me in good humor. Maybe this time, even walk off in disgust? But that was before. Now I know everything has changed between us.
Instead, he takes my chin gently in his hand, turning my face up to his. He leans down and touches his lips lightly against mine. It’s an achingly soft kiss, full of the promise of what could be between us, of what I may have just
foolishly thrown away—because I was scared. Scared of the power of my feelings for him. Scared of being hurt.
The kiss is less urgent, more intimate. Terrifying. I clutch my arms to my chest, my breath short and shallow.
He pulls away and looks into my eyes. “Any of them fit the bill?”
I shake my head. I don’t trust my voice enough to speak.
Without a word, he wraps his arms around me, pulling me up against his firm body. He presses his lips against mine once more. This time, it’s more urgent, more insistent, and it makes me thoroughly weak at the knees.
“Taylor,” he breathes against my mouth.
Tears well in my eyes at my name on his lips.
“I have a proposition for you.” His voice is deep, gruff with desire.
I open my eyes and look up into his. His want for me sucks the air from my lungs.
I know what I want his proposition to be. I want him to tell me I’m his, that he’s still mine. Whatever my brain is screaming at me right now no longer matters.
My heart wins.
“What is it?”
He reaches up and runs his fingers through my hair. The feel against my scalp sends electric shockwaves down my back. “Forget about what you think you want. I know you want to be with me. I can see it written across your face. Give me one more night, that’s all I ask. One more night to show you what you mean to me.”
I see the unadulterated honesty on his face. My brain still screams at me not to do it, that this can only end in disaster. Jake is the man whose family is so important to me, the family I simply cannot lose. Jake is the guy who sleeps with a woman and moves on to the next one before you can say “multiple orgasm.”
But as he looks at me, my reasons evaporate into thin air. Jake Harrison can have me tonight and any other night he wants.
Because it’s him.
He’s the one.
I know it with deep down inside, just as I know the sun will rise every day. Orange shirt and tropical ocean green eyes be damned.
The Right Guy Page 13