Tempted in the Tropics (9 page)

“Hey, squirt,” Cole said to her, a nickname she’d had no say in, for sure. “Heard I missed the dress drama.”

Paige smirked. “I can’t believe you were in on it.”

“This room might be my favorite,” Cole said. “Nats blue.”

“Mine’s incredible, too,” Lane said. “Nats red.”

“For real?” Cole nodded. “Nice.”

“I told Liza she totally hooked me up,” Paige said.

Liza shook her head. “Fairleigh Hawthorne totally hooked us all up. But it’s hard to imagine her associated with a place like this. She seems so…”

“
Downton Abbey
,” Paige joked. “I don’t even want to think about her up here skinny-dipping in the pool.”

“Like you were just doing?” Liza winked.

Lane’s eyebrows shot up, along with the corners of his mouth. “Damn my timing.”

Shifting his wide-eyed gaze between Liza and Paige, Cole wisely kept his mouth shut.

Paige couldn’t keep herself from blushing. “Thanks, Liza.”

“I owe you,” she said. “Don’t get me started on how many times you absolutely humiliated me in front of Cole when we first started dating.”

Cole grinned and pulled her close.

“And look how that turned out,” Paige said lightly. “Ended up landing me right here in the middle of paradise.” Her stomach growled and she slapped her hand against it. The champagne and fruit had given it the idea that more might be coming. “What’s up for dinner?”

Liza and Cole shared a glance.

“I promised Cole we’d have a private dinner in our sanctuary before everything gets crazy,” Liza said. “Most people aren’t getting here until later tonight, so the fun really starts in the morning.”

“Sounds cool,” Lane said to them, then leveled his gaze on Paige. “What do you think?” he asked with a sexy glint in his eyes. “You want to wait until morning for the fun to start, or do you want to get started now?”

Cole whistled suggestively. “Now there’s an offer for you, squirt.”

…

“Follow me,” Gerard said. Lane loved the rhythm of his accent and thought about incorporating it into a song. Gerard had driven him and Paige down the mountain from Caldera to the beach below, and now he led them through a lush grove of palm trees, soft sand beneath their feet. Slivers of moonlight shone between the fronds and lit their path toward the sea.

Gerard stopped at the edge of the palm grove, just yards from the sea, where a rustic table with a white cloth was set for dinner for two. The fronds formed an overhead canopy, and tiki torches provided dancing light that glistened on the calm water.

Thanks to other people’s travel plans and Liza’s private dinner with Cole, Lane would have the evening alone with Paige before the wedding activities kicked in. He’d gotten ahead of himself and made a bold invitation to Paige right in front of Cole and Liza, and then had to back it up when she’d accepted. While she’d showered and gotten ready, he’d changed into something more presentable—nice shorts and a newish polo shirt—and he and Gerard cooked up this plan for dinner. A casual dinner on the beach had sounded perfect, but Lane hadn’t imagined the setting feeing so…romantic, with tiki torch flames flickering and the intimate table for two beneath the palms. What kind of signal was that sending to Paige? Obviously a green light, but it was too late to back out now.

Gerard left them alone as Paige took it all in, looking super-sexy in a short, simple sundress. “You have got to be kidding me,” she said, her glossy lips parted.

Me, too.

“Close your mouth or a bug’s gonna fly in there,” Lane teased.

She quickly snapped her mouth closed.

“I’ll have to remember that trick.” He nudged her shoulder. “Worked like a charm.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’ll take more than that to shut me up.”

To hell with preliminaries. He’d set this up, he might as well follow through. Besides, he hadn’t thought about much but kissing Paige since they’d been interrupted the first time. Lane swept his fingers beneath her chin and kissed her—gently, tenderly, slowly smoothing his hand down her back. He pulled her tightly against him. The supple softness of her breasts met his taut muscles and an image of her standing in the waterfall—her arms over her head, her top nearly off—flashed in his mind. Pressure swirled and built inside him, and he deepened their kiss. Each wisp of his tongue met a similar one from her, drawing him in with the rhythm of the waves lapping lazily on the shore.

Paige pulled back a bit, her expression curious and inviting. Without a word, she reached up and lazily traced her finger along his bottom lip. She held his gaze and dipped the same finger into her mouth, closing her lips around it and grinning. His heart thudded madly. Much more of this and they’d have to bring out the defibrillator. The girl was dangerously seductive.

“That seemed to do it,” he said with a slow smile. She wore her hair long and loose tonight—golden in the torch light—and he swept a lock of it away from her face, the strands silky beneath his fingertips.

She backed away and gave him a once-over, her knowing gaze ending up in the vicinity of the zipper of his shorts.

“I didn’t mean
that
,” he said, although there’d been plenty going on behind that zipper. “I meant that seemed to quiet you down.”

“For now.”

Gerard emerged from another path through the palms, where he’d told Lane there was a butler’s cabin. “Dinner?”

“Yes,” Paige said. “Before my stomach starts barking again.”

Gerard’s eyes widened. Lane shook his head, imagining that Gerard hadn’t encountered many guests like Paige. He’d never met a girl like her, either.

She and Lane settled in next to each other at the table. Gerard uncorked a bottle of pinot grigio and Lane tasted it, the zesty flavor perfectly matching his mood.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Lane said, “but I already ordered dinner for us.”

Paige pressed her lips together tightly. “Depends on what you ordered.”

“Hmm. I bet it’ll sound better if Gerard tells you all about it.”

While Gerard filled Lane’s wineglass and poured a glass for Paige, he said, “We’ll begin with Caribbean pumpkin soup, followed by chili-and-lemongrass-infused shrimp with herb and garlic risotto and ginger sauce.”

Lane grinned at Paige’s spellbound expression. “It sounds so delicious,” she said. “And the way he says it with his Barry White voice and island accent makes it sound like food porn.”

“There you go, Gerard.” Lane raised his glass to the man as he stood by, looking amused but speechless. “Now you know what to do if this resort gig doesn’t work out for you.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Give me some more, Gerard,” Paige said. “What are we having for dessert?”

“White chocolate crème brûlée with lime and raspberry compote.”

Paige pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. “Swoon.”

Gerard seemed to be enjoying Paige’s attention, having added a little extra drama to his dessert presentation. Lane couldn’t blame him. What guy wouldn’t enjoy her attention?

“I’ll be back with your soup,” Gerard said, and disappeared into the shadows.

“I love pumpkin soup,” Paige said, “and shrimp is my favorite. Don’t even get me started on what I would do for white chocolate crème brûlée.”

“Liza said it was your favorite.”

Paige grimaced.

“What?” Lane asked.

“You’ve been talking to Liza about me?”

“Yep.”

“Nothing good could come from that.”

Lane raised his glass. “Here’s to all the intel you can get from a girl’s best friend.”

Paige toasted him and shrugged. “Whatever. Obviously she didn’t tell you all the scary stuff, because you still invited me to dinner.”

“That was before she told me all the scary stuff.” He grinned and took another swallow of wine. “Like the story about the baseball-player engagement cake you made for her and Cole that ended up as a voodoo doll.”

“It wasn’t voodoo for real. That was just to make Liza laugh, and to get her mind off her broken heart long enough for her to listen to reason.”

“Hmm.”

“You sound skeptical,” Paige said as Gerard served their soup and quickly retreated.

“Just fascinated.”

“Enough to take your chances while we’re here in paradise?”

Lane took a slug of wine. “What do you mean, exactly?”

She lifted one shoulder and dropped it quickly. “I mean a fling, exactly. A no-strings, no-drama tropical-island hookup. We could never be a real couple for so many freakin’ reasons, but that doesn’t mean we can’t make the most of this trip. Clearly we’ve got some chemistry going, even though you totally piss me off.”

She’d apparently read his mind—again—and she was perfectly willing to say what was on hers. He had to give her credit for putting it out there when he hadn’t had the nerve to do it. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” she said. “You totally, seriously piss me off.”

He shook his head, fighting a smile. “What happens when we get back to Maple Creek?”

“Business as usual, as you say.” She looked a little annoyed for a second, then thankfully shrugged it off. “You go your way, I’ll go mine. You only have a little while left there anyway.”

“I’ve never done anything like that,” he said.

“Shocking,” she teased.

“Have you?”

She rubbed her glossy lips together nervously. “No. But I feel like I owe it to Liza and Sylvia.” She winked. “Obviously they’re trying to set us up. I’d hate to disappoint them.”

“I completely agree.”

“So?”

Lane leaned toward her, catching her bewitching scent on the breeze. He tucked her silky hair behind her ear, gently nipped at her earlobe, and whispered, “Let’s get on with it.”

She tipped her head back and sighed. He tensed against the rush of desire, and hoped like hell he’d hear that sound all night long.

“I still think you’ve got an unfair advantage,” she said, then ate a spoonful of soup. “Because I haven’t gotten to find out all the scary stuff about you from
your
best friend.”

Lane gulped down the soup in his mouth. “Nothing scary here.” His stomach clenched as soon as the lie passed his lips. Liza knew what had happened in Austin—she’d told him how sorry she was earlier tonight. But she hadn’t betrayed his confidence. “It’s your place to tell Paige,” she had said, “not anyone else’s.”

“Okay, then,” Paige said. “If there’s nothing scary, then let’s try interesting. What would make a hip guy like you leave a place as cool as Austin and come to Maple Creek?”

Lane blinked several times. Thankfully, Gerard came and delivered their entrées, buying him a little time. “Things didn’t work out for me there,” he said finally.

“Things?”

He took a bite of one of the succulent shrimp and chewed. It was delicious, but it seemed to get bigger in his mouth as he worried about what to tell her and what to leave out. Even though it had been painful for her to tell him about losing her mom and how it affected her life, she’d done so freely. Her openness and vulnerability had led to their first kiss, and now here they were, having a romantic dinner on the beach. Uptight Lane wouldn’t even consider changing his mind about telling Paige about his past, but newly-laid-back Lane was feeling closer to her, and ready to talk…a little. Shouldn’t the girl he was officially having a fling with have some idea where he was coming from?

Lane swallowed the shrimp and cleared his throat. “I was engaged.” He already felt lighter after only three words.

Her eyes widened. “Engaged?” She deliberately took a sip of wine. “Wow. That’s pretty serious.” She furrowed her brow. “But now you’re…not.”

He shook his head. “It’s been about seven months.”

“You couldn’t stay in Austin? Didn’t you have a practice there?”

Lane suddenly hoped Gerard had access to several more bottles of wine. How would Paige feel about him after she heard his story? He was surprised how disappointed he suspected he’d be if she changed her mind about their fling—and not just for the obvious reasons. She was making his time on the island incredibly interesting, and besides, he
kind of
really liked her.

“I did,” he said, hoping to leave the question about his practice at that. He still wasn’t ready to go there yet. “And, no, I couldn’t stay there. My fiancée and I were together for six years—even lived together. We had the same friends. Our lives were intertwined to the point that we couldn’t separate everything without one of us leaving.” Which was mostly true.

“She’s still there?”

He nodded.

Paige set her fork on her plate. “I’m sorry.” She reached over and grasped his hand, surprising him. “Something awful must’ve happened.” She gazed at him sincerely. “It’s cool if you want to tell me more about it, but I totally understand if you don’t. I just hope you’re okay now.”

Lane hadn’t known what kind of reaction to expect from her, but this wasn’t it. She seemed more concerned about him, and how he’d been affected, than by the sordid details of the story. That was more than he could say for most people he knew.

He held her gaze, feeling now more than ever that he could get lost in those golden-brown eyes. “She betrayed my trust,” he said.
With someone else.
“After that’s gone, there’s not much left.”

Paige lowered her eyebrows, looking more serious than he’d ever seen her. “Do you still love her?”

She sure didn’t dance around the tough questions. But this one he could answer with certainty. “Not anymore,” he said with a grimace. “But my parents do.”

Chapter Thirteen

“This black sand is amazing,” Paige said, “even in the moonlight.” Another lazy wave washed over her bare feet, and refreshingly cool water swirled around her ankles. After she and Lane had finished their entrées, they decided to take a walk on the beach—a good idea, since she wasn’t sure how to handle everything he’d just told her between bites of shrimp and risotto. Walking next to him him right now was a lot easier than being face-to-face.

It had to have been hard for Lane to admit that he’d been burned by his ex, and she was surprised he spilled the info to her. Surprised and flattered. He’d agreed to a fling—where the hell had she found the nerve to propose that?—then he’d revealed something incredibly personal. Seeing him so vulnerable had gripped her heart. Sure, he had his issues, but she couldn’t imagine any girl treating him like that. She couldn’t imagine any girl letting him go.

“Am I in for another geology lesson?” Lane teased. “Or can I save myself by telling you I already know the sand is black because of volcanic activity on the island?”

She nudged his biceps with her shoulder, coming up against solid muscle. “You read that in a brochure, Doc?”

“Nope. Gerard told me.”

“Believe it or not, I’d much rather hear him talk about food than geology. Like that white chocolate crème brûlée we’re having for dessert. Mmm.” She closed her eyes for a second. “I can taste the creamy sweet goodness…the raspberry and lime compote.”

“Yeah, that compote gets me jazzed every time.”

“What’s wrong with compote? I make it at Sweet Bee’s sometimes and sell it with scones or pound cake. It’s yummy fruit in sugar syrup. With vanilla or lemon or orange peel. Or cinnamon, cloves, or coconut. So many—”

“Please, no clothes. Whatever you do, forget the clothes.”

Paige laughed. “You mean cloves.”

Lane stopped walking and faced her, looking deliciously sexy with the moonlight accenting the classic angles of his face. He gently grasped her bare shoulders and circled his thumbs in the delicate hollows beneath her collarbones. She imagined his feathery touch…everywhere. Desire swept through her as smoothly and surely as the next wave would sweep the shore. He pulled her to him and lightly kissed her forehead, leaving her longing for him to kiss her lips. She gazed up at him, certain he could feel her heart thudding madly against his sturdy chest. He lazily skimmed his fingers up her bare thigh, teasingly lifting the hem of her dress. She shivered with sensations she hadn’t felt in far too long.

“If we’re talking about dessert,” he said, “I meant both.”

Oh my…

He kissed her, languidly at first, then more urgently as their breathing quickened. Paige seriously considered pulling him down onto the sand and doing dessert right there, but her fantasy of hooking up with him did not include gazillions of gritty black granules or Gerard hanging out nearby.

“I told Gerard we’d like dessert served in my sanctuary.” Lane gave her a questioning look as he laced his fingers between hers.

“Really?”

He nodded, his eyes glinting expectantly. “You said not to get you started on what you would do for white chocolate crème brûlée.” His sexy mouth quirked up at one corner, one dimple nearly making an appearance.

She bunched her lips. “Hmm. I did, didn’t I?”

“I figured if it were just you and me, some crème brûlée, and a decadent sanctuary, maybe I could find out.”

Now that sounded more like her fantasy, and she wasn’t sure they even needed the crème brûlée. She cocked her head and looked at him demurely. “So what are we waiting for?”

…

Lane’s crimson sanctuary was as beautiful as Paige’s, but in a fiery sort of way that encouraged abandon. Certainly the bottle of champagne chilling on a nearby table would encourage it even further, as well as the two artfully presented servings of crème brûlée displayed on a carved-wood tray. She watched as he uncorked the champagne, captivated again by his long, nimble fingers.

Paige’s insides were all quivery. She still couldn’t believe she’d asked Lane to have a fling with her—out loud. She’d done some crazy things in her life, but that had to top the list. But here they were, flinging away.

She shifted her attention to the fiber optic light colors lazily cycling through and illuminating the water in the infinity pool, which had quite an effect in the dim light. What could’ve been a really cheesy feature somewhere else was done with class at Caldera, and only added to the sensual atmosphere.

Sensual atmosphere…

How long had it been since she’d shared a night like this with a guy? Since before her mom had died, for sure. And never with a man like Lane.

He poured the champagne and handed her a glass. “Here’s to our time in the tropics.”

Paige reminded herself to stay in the moment, to take things one second at a time, and not to read anything into whatever happened here. She’d offered him a fling, and that’s what they’d agreed to. But the island vibe was more intoxicating than any champagne, and what may have seemed like reality here would revert to fantasy when they got back to Maple Creek. She’d seen the same thing happen on
The Bachelor
about fifty-six times.

“Cheers.” Paige tipped her glass to his, the hum of struck crystal resonating after she pulled it away and took a bubbly sip.

He gestured toward the desserts. “About that crème brûlée…”

“Looks decadent,” she said. “Almost as good as what I make. I’d really like to have a bite.”

Lane picked up the tray and led her over to the patio where two thick-cushioned chaises and a table faced the incredible view of the star-peppered Caribbean sky. He put the tray on the table, quickly dipped a spoon into the crème brûlée, and took a bite.

“Mmm,” he moaned, tipping back his head and closing his eyes.

Holy hotness.

Paige swallowed hard. “My turn,” she said, reaching for the other spoon.

He leaned in close and gently grabbed her wrist. “Oh no you don’t.” She could smell the creamy sweetness on his breath. Without hesitation, she kissed him, tasting delicate white chocolate and zesty lime on his tongue. If this was how dessert was going to go down on the island, she decided to eat it first at every meal.

Paige forced herself to pull away, then licked her lips, his gaze locked on her mouth. “Now can I have a bite?” She could eat the entire dessert whenever she wanted, but it was way more fun to play this game with him.

“You can have a bite for every piece of clothing you take off.”

Oh my…

“What about you?”

“Same rules apply to me. Fair enough?” He looked so damn sexy she considered tossing all her clothes in the pool and getting it over with. That way she wouldn’t be tempted to put them back on until they’d had a good, long time to dry.

“You’ve already had a bite,” she said, and sat on one of the chaise longues where she could reach the dessert.

He grinned, both dimples showing up this time, and kicked off one of his sandals.

“Shoes count?” Paige started doing some calculating. She had on exactly two shoes, and three pieces of clothing if she counted her teensy pink-lace thong that matched her bra. At this point, he had on one shoe, a shirt, shorts, and underwear, if he wasn’t going commando. For some reason, the idea struck her as super-hot, and a wave of warmth rushed through her. Commando or not, if they went bite-for-bite he’d lose his clothes first.

“Yep.” He pulled the other chaise close to hers, dipped his spoon in the crème brûlée, and offered it to her. Seven lords-a-leaping danced in her heart. He was going to feed her? She took the spoonful in her mouth and he pulled it out ever so slowly as the zing of lime and raspberry burst in her mouth, followed by smooth white chocolate.

Paige moaned, turning Lane’s playful gaze to sultry. She lounged back in the chaise, took a deep breath of the tropical night air, and gladly kicked off one of her sandals. “Small price to pay for a spoonful of heaven like that.”

He took another bite and off came his other shoe. Now things would start getting more interesting. She knew what to expect, to a point, and so did he. He’d seen her in—and nearly out of—her bikini, and she’d checked him out in his swim trunks. But Paige had a feeling that both of them were taking this game down to the skin. The cocktail of nerves, excitement, and champagne gave her a buzz like no other.

The next bite was easy for her, costing just her second sandal. Lane’s required him to lose his polo shirt, reminding her that his abs were so ripped she could count them. Whatever she had done to deserve this, she hoped she’d do it again. Over and over and over.

“I think I’ve had enough,” she teased, knowing she’d pay for her next bite with her dress.

His abs rippled as he leaned toward her and smoothed his fingers along the low neckline of her sundress. She shuddered from the tingly sensation that sprinkled through her.

“Chicken,” he whispered, pinching the skirt of her dress between his fingers.

“Never for dessert. I’m a pastry chef, after all.” Paige took another slow, tangy-sweet bite of the crème brûlée, thinking her recipe was better by just a smidge. She stood and clenched his hand, urging him to join her. He got up and she led him to the edge of the patio that overlooked the sheer-rock side of the mountain. The narrow cable fence was so low-profile, it was as if nothing stood between her and Lane and the drop-off. Beneath the moonlight and stars, she faced him and smoothed her fingers down his sandpapery, shadowed cheek. She rose up on tiptoes and kissed him gently.

But there was more than desire in her kiss. She drew back and gazed into his eyes, falling for him more every second.
It’s just a fling,
she reminded herself. But her heart had opened to him. “Undress me,” she whispered.

Lane drew in a sharp breath. He leveled a smoldering gaze on her, traced his fingertips across her shoulders and down her back. Mesmerized by the way his taut muscles flexed as he moved, she shivered beneath his feathery touch, all of her senses alert and eager. Deftly, he unzipped her dress. Slipping his strong hands beneath its delicate straps, he gently pushed them off her shoulders and the dress fell around her ankles.

Paige stepped out of the dress and stood before him, her lacy pink bra and thong practically glowing in the moonlight. He swept his spellbound gaze up and down her body, and gently placed his hands on her bare waist.

“You look…delicious,” he said, and hungrily kissed a trail up her neck to her lips. “You’re officially my new favorite dessert.”

Her heart leaped. Who knew a few spoonfuls of crème brûlée could lead to this?

She circled her fingers down from his expertly sculpted pecs, across his abs, and tucked them behind the button of his shorts. Gazing at him seductively, she asked, “Don’t you want another bite?” This one would cost him his shorts, and then they’d really be in business.

“I’m good.”

“That’s what I’m counting on.” She tugged at the waistband of his shorts. “So these are coming off voluntarily?”

He nodded. “You’re gonna take ’em off of me.” He leaned in and kissed her, gently nipping her bottom lip with his teeth. “Then I’m gonna make you glad you did.”

Paige’s blood went hot. “I plan to hold you to that.” Her fingers trembled as she slowly unbuttoned his shorts. “But if you’ve got tighty-whities on under these, that might be a deal-breaker.”