Tempted in the Tropics (10 page)

Chapter Fourteen

Lane woke to the stunning view of Paige curled up sleeping next to him, a silky halo of blond hair on her pillow, her hands balled up in the sheet and tucked beneath her chin. Hazy sunlight seeped through the mosquito nets that wafted ever so slightly in the tropical breeze. Beyond, the Caribbean Sea sparkled like a blue topaz, cut to perfectly reflect the light, the majestic Pitons rising in the distance. He took a deep breath of the pure sea air, tinged with a top note of tropical flowers, then blinked a couple of times to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. This place was so far from Austin. And this girl was…on fire.

He’d lived thirty-one years, dated a fair amount, and been engaged to Stephanie, but being with Paige last night was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. As a doctor, he figured he was pretty squared away on all the sensations the human body could experience. He wasn’t. And Paige had proven that to him, every way from sexy and playful, to serious and downright sinful. He was tempted to nudge her awake and press replay, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. From the look of things, he was having a fling with Sleeping Beauty.

He rolled over carefully, pulled the mosquito netting aside, and got out of the huge canopied bed, leaving her nestled in the middle. Buck naked, he walked over to the patio where his shorts and black boxer briefs were strewn across a chaise, Paige’s dress and lingerie nearby. He grinned, remembering what Paige had said about tighty-whities being a deal-breaker, and everything that happened after that. Could they just pretend there wasn’t a wedding and stay in their sanctuaries for the next two days? No doubt he could think of plenty to keep them busy. He wondered if she’d wake up feeling the same way about him.

Lane decided to order breakfast so it would be on its way or there when she woke up. He dialed room service, keeping his voice low as he ordered omelets and toast, fruit and orange juice. At the last second, he tacked on a bottle of champagne.

Figuring he had a while before breakfast arrived, he decided to take a swim in the glistening pool. Lane quietly waded in until he reached the deeper water where he swam, enveloped by the water, swimming naked for the first time ever. He emerged on the side of the pool that flanked the sea, propped his arms on the edge, shook the water from his hair, and gazed out at the view. Images of him and Paige together last night played through his mind. He tipped his head back, the sun on his face, his blood heating up despite the cool water.

A wisp of a sound from behind caught his attention. He turned to see Paige standing poolside, the sheet wrapped around her like a toga. Her knowing smile hinted that she could see what was stirring beneath the water.

“Is that an optical illusion,” she said, “or are you just happy to see me?”

Lane grinned, so damn thankful this wasn’t going to be one of those miserably awkward morning-afters. “Up for a swim?”

“Not nearly as much as you are,” she teased, and began to slowly unwrap herself from the sheet. The girl had seduction down to a science, and Lane planned to work toward a PhD—in three days.

Someone knocked sharply on the door.

Worst. Timing. Ever.

“Expecting company?” Paige quickly wrapped the sheet back around her.

“Breakfast,” he said. “I was going to serve it to you in bed.”

“Aw.”

He glanced down at himself, then back up at her. No way could he answer the door in his condition. “Think you could get that?”

…

Breakfast sounded awesome to Paige, but it would’ve been even better after a sexy swim with Lane. If it wasn’t something that was better eaten hot, she’d set it aside, jump in the pool, and they’d eat later. Much later.

Feeling giddy from their time together last night, she didn’t have a care about answering the door dressed in a sheet. Gerard had to figure something like that was going to happen, considering he’d been with her and Lane down at the beach last night, and he’d left them alone later with champagne and crème brûlée. Regardless, he’d probably seen much worse than their PG-13 make-out session.

Paige hurried toward the door, the hardwood floor cool beneath her bare feet. “This is one of my favorite combinations, you know,” she called to Lane. “Scrambled eggs and”—she turned the door handle and pulled—“skinny-dipping.” She wished she could swallow her words as she stared into the faces of the wide-eyed, middle-aged couple standing there, neither of them carrying breakfast.

Paige’s stomach leaped into her throat. “Oh!” she said, clutching the sheet around her.

“We must have the wrong room,” the well-preserved brunette woman said. The tall, handsome man she was with looked at Paige questioningly. “We were looking for Dr. Anderson.”

His parents?

Paige’s heart lurched, and every beat afterward pumped heat into her face. Her first idea was to tell them they did have the wrong room. She’d switch with Lane and they’d never know. Right? Her second plan was to get a running start and take a flying leap out of the sanctuary, down the side of the mountain.

She blinked several times. “Um—”

“Let’s eat out on the patio,” Lane called from behind her.

Paige clenched her teeth. “You’re in the right place.” Stepping aside, she avoided their gazes and gestured for them to come in. What choice did she have? She’d been busted. She could only hope Lane had gotten out of the pool and put on his shorts.

Paige followed the couple into the sanctuary. Beyond, Lane still stood naked in the pool, leaning against the edge, looking as surprised as Paige had felt when she opened the door. The couple stopped near the pool, the man looking sterner than he had before, the woman more shocked.

“Mom, Dad,” Lane said, “this is Paige.” He looked at Paige apologetically. “Paige, these are my parents, Don and Karen.”

Paige shifted nervously from foot to foot, clutching the sheet to her chest. She dipped her chin, not sure exactly what to do—shake their hands…curtsy? “Nice to meet you,” she said, as if everyone was dressed.

Don simply stared at her, his fiery eyes the same captivating shade of green as Lane’s.

Karen glanced over at the patio and apparently caught sight of Lane’s shorts and briefs on the chaise, her eyebrows jumping halfway up her forehead before she lowered them quickly into a grimace. “Obviously we’ve interrupted something.”

Lane looked at her cautiously, seemingly measuring what he was about to say. “Why don’t you guys check out the view from the patio while I get out of the pool?” he asked.

Don led Karen to the patio while Paige lagged behind, tossing Lane a rolled-up towel from the stack of three on a nearby table.

Oh my God
, she mouthed to him. He closed his eyes for a second and shook his head.

Don and Karen waited on the patio, looking stylish and sophisticated against the picturesque background. Paige could have believed they were posing for a spread in
Travel + Leisure
magazine—except for the scowls on their faces. She had wanted so badly to impress them, and she’d certainly accomplished that.

She stepped over to the patio while Lane got out of the pool. Karen and Don faced her, their intent gazes simultaneously resting on something behind Paige at about knee level. Paige turned to see her sundress and bright-pink-lace bra tossed across the chaise, her thong dangling by a thin strip of elastic from the armrest. Her stomach pitched. Champagne bubbled in the back of her throat, and she thought she might hurl. And why not? A puddle of puke would be like icing on the cake of this train-wreck scene.

Paige practically leaped over to the chaise and scooped up her clothes. She yanked her thong from the armrest, but the elastic caught on the curved end. The thong snapped from her fingers and went flying, landing limply in the pool beyond her reach.

“We’ll worry about that later,” Lane said in a low tone as he joined her, facing Don’s and Karen’s glares.

Paige officially wanted to die. But short of that, she was dying to leave…now. Nothing could save her at this point. “I, um…” She looked in the general direction of Don and Karen. “Nice to meet you, but I need to run.” She glanced at Lane and shrugged. “I’ll get your sheet back to you,” she said, and broke a walk-of-shame speed record getting out the door.

Chapter Fifteen

“So that was Paige,” Lane said matter-of-factly to his parents. Of course they’d show up this morning—practically the only time in his adult life he’d done something spontaneous and exciting that they wouldn’t approve of, and here they were.

“Well,” his mom said. “She’s…”

“Not Stephanie,” Lane said, knowing exactly what his mom was getting ready to say, and bracing himself for the lecture that was coming. His mom was a law professor, so she had plenty of experience lecturing. He could’ve earned a JD degree three times over for the time he’d put in listening to her.

His mom lowered her eyebrows, a crease between them that she wouldn’t like if she saw it in the mirror. “How is being…
distracted
by a girl like her going to help you get back on track?”

His dad shook his head sternly.

Lane’s temper simmered and spit like one of the volcano pits he and Paige had seen on their way to Caldera. “What do you mean
a girl like her
?” He knew what she meant; he just wanted to hear her say it.

“Tattoos and thongs—” She gestured to the pool where Paige’s thong floated on top like a tropical flower. “And Lord knows what else. Who in the world is she, and what is she doing here?”

“She’s Liza’s maid of honor,” Lane said flatly, then enjoyed watching his mom’s eyes bug out—another look she wouldn’t be keen on if she could see it herself. “She owns the bakery next to Uncle Pete’s practice.”

“We’ve been in there,” his mom said, as if they’d braved something dangerous and survived.

His dad nodded. “I remember the cinnamon rolls. Best I’ve ever had, believe it or not.”

At least there was that.

“I can’t believe Sylvia and John would allow Liza to have someone like that as her maid of honor.”

Lane had never seen his parents act so judgmental. Sure, they’d offered him lots of opinions and guidance over the years—most he’d agreed with, if only in hindsight, and some that he hadn’t. He’d made his own decisions and mistakes, yet he valued their approval. They’d never caught him in such a compromising position, but still. They could at least have the courtesy to keep their negative comments to themselves. He’d had nearly enough of the
someone like that
s and the
girl like her
s. And he’d had far too much of his parents influencing his life. “Why not? There’s way more to her than tattoos and thongs. Here’s the ‘lord knows what else.’ She used to have a sweet job as a pastry chef at the Hay-Adams in DC—somewhere else you’ve been, and maybe even eaten her cinnamon rolls there. Would you have felt differently about her then?

“Sadly, her mom got lung cancer so she moved home to Maple Creek to care for her while she was dying, then stayed there with her dad because she couldn’t bear to leave him alone now that it’s just the two of them. She runs the bakery and focuses on making healthy pastries, especially for the older people in town. It’s more expensive and time-consuming for her, but she happily does it, and doesn’t pass the extra cost on because lots of her customers are on fixed incomes.”

Lane thought back on what he’d just said, realizing he’d just convinced himself that what Paige did was actually important to the community, and he was beginning to see her side more clearly. He still couldn’t change his position about helping her, but he could better relate to where she was coming from.

“Then I came along,” he said ruefully. “Because of all the trouble Stephanie caused in Austin—and every move I make is being scrutinized—I couldn’t risk helping her like Uncle Pete does, and it could really hurt her business.”

“Pete helps her?” his mom asked suspiciously.

“They have a system where he tells her what each patient needs diet-wise—fat-free, gluten-free—and she bakes it. It’s legit, with HIPAA forms and everything, but technically it could raise questions. I can’t afford to be questioned again.”

“No you can’t,” his dad said emphatically. Being a hospital administrator, he knew a thing or two about the system.

Someone knocked on the door.

“That would be breakfast.” Lane had a fleeting thought about how it would’ve gone with Paige if they’d had the breakfast in bed he’d planned. Just thinking about being with her short-circuited all his thoughts. He blinked several times, trying to clear his head.

“Have you eaten?” he asked his parents.

His dad glanced at his watch as if to convey that breakfast hours had passed a long time ago. “Yes.”

“Then you can sit with me while I eat,” Lane said.

His mom nodded, smoothing her hair away from her eyes.

Lane walked over and answered the door. Gerard stepped inside carrying a large tray with Lane’s breakfast order. His eyes widened at the sight of the Andersons out on the patio, and he looked curiously at Lane, who shrugged. “It was a surprise to me too, man,” Lane said quietly.

Gerard gave him a wide, white grin, and took the tray to the table on the patio where Lane’s parents had seated themselves at the dining table. While Gerard chatted with them, Lane lagged behind, discreetly scooped Paige’s thong out of the pool, and hung it to dry in the bathroom. He remembered the smoothness of her thighs beneath his eager fingers as he peeled it off of her last night. Now that seemed like an awfully long time ago.

Lane went and sat at the table, wasting no time digging into the piping hot omelet. “Delicious,” he said through a mouthful of fluffy eggs and gooey cheese. “But not nearly as good as yours,” he said to his mom, trying to lighten things up. She’d admittedly never been the best cook.

She gave him a tight smile, and he knew their discussion wasn’t over.

“You’re never going to get back together with Stephanie behaving like this,” his mom said. “If she found out—”

“Right, Mom,” Lane said, his temper flaring again. “I’m never going to get back together with Stephanie. You should’ve just stopped there. It’s over. Let it go.”

They’d managed to forgive Stephanie for all the hell she’d put him through—at least all the hell they knew about. The pill prescribing, the investigation, her suspension, her and Lane’s practice being shut down because of it all. Because she was a doctor, she was from the right kind of family, they knew her parents, they were good people, and we all make mistakes—some of them terrible. Their parents had literally set the two of them up years ago. All these reasons had initially influenced Lane to forgive Stephanie, and he’d tried to work through things with her.

Lane bit into a juicy-sweet piece of just-ripe mango and chewed deliberately.

“I understand the situation is complicated.” His dad finally got a word in. “Maybe with some more counseling, you and Stephanie can work things out. She’s been cleared of the charges, you know.”

Lane nearly choked on the mango. He hadn’t known. He’d tried to move forward with his life and block out any more information about hers. “No, I didn’t know. But the damage is done. I lost my good reputation in Austin. I lost my practice.” He gazed out at the sea, glistening in the sun. “I lost friends. Even lost my home and the woman who was supposed to become my wife.”

“But you can get all that back,” his dad said. “Just not in Austin.”

“It’s time to stop being proud, Lane.” His mom fixed him with a stern look.

A burst of adrenaline fueled Lane’s temper. Despite the breeze, heat prickled on his skin. He tossed the fork on his plate with a
clang
, startling his parents. “Proud? Is that what you think? Well that’s not it at all. I stood by Stephanie. I forgave her. I endured the embarrassment and the press and the finger-pointing when I’d done nothing questionable. But after all that, when I found out she was having an affair with her lawyer—the guy who got all the charges dropped, I guess—that was it for me.”

His parents stared at him, stunned. Lane couldn’t believe he’d protected Stephanie this long by not giving them the last piece of the miserable puzzle that had been their relationship.

After a moment, his mother cleared her throat and said, “Surely you must have been mistaken.”

Lane’s temper flared. “I caught her in
our
bed with her lawyer, Mom. There was no mistake about it.”

…

“So your thong is still in Lane’s pool?” Liza asked Paige. She and Sylvia had laughed so hard at Paige’s story that they’d had to wipe tears from their eyes. Even the St. Lucian women giving them pedicures in the open-air spa were discreetly giggling.

“Unless Lane fished it out.” Paige shook her head, still mortified by what had happened after such an amazing night. Even though she, Sylvia, and Liza sat like queens on thrones in their cushy pedicure chairs, Paige felt like the village idiot.

“I would love to have seen Karen’s face,” Sylvia said, obviously struggling not to bust out laughing again.

“I’d tell you what it looked like if I’d seen it.” Paige pressed her eyes closed for a few seconds, hoping she’d open them to find that this was all a silly nightmare. “As it was, there was no way I was looking anywhere near that woman’s eyes after my thong went flying.”

“So you left there wrapped in a sheet?” Sylvia asked.

“I would’ve run out naked if I had to, just to get away.”

Sylvia and Liza shared a look and let loose laughing.

Paige grinned from sheer embarrassment.

“Did you return the sheet?” Of course Liza would ask such a pragmatic question.

“Are you kidding? It’s still in my sanctuary. No way was I risking going back over there and running into Mr. and Mrs. Sternface again.” The pedicurist touched a ticklish spot on Paige’s foot and she flinched. “I’ll just have to think of some way to avoid them…
forever
, starting with the cruise tonight.”

“That’s going to be a real trick, since we have you and Lane seated with them,” Sylvia said.

Paige’s stomach flipped. “Get out.” She looked to Liza to save her, but Liza simply nodded.

“We figured it’d be a perfect opportunity for you to get to know them,” Sylvia said.

“For real?” Just when she thought things couldn’t get any worse. “Please tell me you guys are jacking with me. It’s going to be bad enough to be on the same boat with them, in the same sea, but at the same table?” Paige flattened her palm against her stomach. “I swear I’m not hungover but, for the second time today, I think I might throw up.”

The pedicurist looked up at Paige, wide-eyed. “Should I get a pail?”

“No.” Paige rubbed her stomach. “It’s okay.”

“I’m sure Karen and Don were a little surprised at the scene they happened upon,” Sylvia said. “But you and Lane are adults. And he deserves a break after the rough go he’s had.” She shook her head, her face lined with concern.

“He told me he was engaged,” Paige said, “and how he had to leave Austin because his life was so mixed in with his fiancée’s.”

Sylvia and Liza gazed at Paige expectantly.

“What?” Paige asked. “Did you guys know her?”

They quickly glanced at each other and shook their heads in unison. “Only enough to decide they were definitely not a match.” Sylvia always had a diplomatic way of saying things, and it made Paige even more curious about Lane’s ex.

“He said he’s not in love with her anymore.”

“I wouldn’t think so,” Liza said. “He’s not the kind to”—she cleared her throat suggestively— “
make out
with a girl if he was still hung up on a different one.”

Paige decided not to tell them it was only a fling. An even shorter fling than she’d imagined, since Lane probably didn’t want to risk being with her again and incurring the wrath of his mom and dad. Her heart hitched with regret that her time with him had gone so fast.

“Evidently a couple other people are still hung up on her, though,” Paige said.

Sylvia looked at her curiously. “Who?”

“His parents.”

“Uh-oh,” Liza said.

Sylvia narrowed her eyes.

“Did you ever see his fiancée?” Paige asked.

“Only pictures.” Liza gazed out at the view—a decadent luxury available almost anywhere they went at Caldera—suddenly seeming mesmerized. Paige agreed it was stunning, but there was nothing different about it that should’ve captivated Liza’s attention now. Sylvia ran her fingers over the hem of her shorts, smoothing out wrinkles that weren’t there.

“And?” Paige asked. “Share a little intel, would you?”

“Her name was Stephanie.” Liza shrugged. “Dark hair, medium height. Pretty in a reserved kind of way.”

“Nowhere near the knockout you are.” Sylvia winked. She could always be counted on for a motherly confidence boost. “No wonder Lane doesn’t know what hit him.”

“Aw, thanks.” Paige smiled ruefully, as an unexpected wave of jealousy washed over her. She’d had a one-night fling with Lane, but crazy Stephanie could’ve had him for a lifetime.

“What color would you like on your toes?” Liza’s pedicurist asked her.

Liza rummaged in her purse that was on the floor next to her chair and pulled out a bottle of nail polish. “Blue for me and my maid of honor.” She tipped her head toward Paige, and handed the pedicurist the bottle.

“That color’s a dead-on match for my dress.” Paige grinned, immensely thankful that neither the polish nor her dress had turned out to be Orioles orange. “But you’re doing blue, too?” she asked Liza.

“Something old,” Sylvia said, “something new. Something borrowed, something blue.”

“Might as well be my toenails,” Liza said happily.

“See?” Paige wiggled her toes excitedly. “Something orange wouldn’t have rhymed at all.”