Tempting Isabel (Paradise South #1) (17 page)

Her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen. “Sorry, hun, it’s the florist.”
Who always blows things out of proportion.
“Let me meet you down in the lobby in about ten minutes, okay?” she said as she headed out of the room to take the call.

She made sure to throw a quick wave goodbye to the
brujas
of the bride, Stephanie and Annette, but they were too busy brooding in the corner of the suite to lift their fingers to wiggle a
California-wave
back.

And God, she had much bigger things to worry about than those two. Again, the highest priority, she had to find the best man. She needed to explain, get a handle on the situation, make sure Zack was clear.
Strangers
. They were perfect strangers.

Raquel or Charlie, they both had the rooming list. She just needed to call his room. Yes. Easy.

But Darren had said he was meeting his group in the sauna. And, oh God, the time. Either way, she’d have to handle this after checking out the church with Amy.

And shit, the florist! Her phone was still buzzing. “Hello? Anita, sorry, so sorry…Yes the color scheme is
still
white and lavender.”

CHAPTER 21

Z
ack was getting
raked over the coals by Darren in the men’s common suite. “You had weeks, dude! And you ‘forgot’ to get your tux fitted? You’re the tallest
muscle-bound
gorilla that ever walked the damned Earth! You
know
you need custom!
I
know you need custom.”

“No, it’s fine! Fits just fine!” Zack said, smirking at the rest of the groomsmen, full well knowing it was tight in all the right places.

“That’s it. I’m getting Amy. If you won’t believe me, you’ll at least believe her!” Darren stormed out of the room, leaving the door wide open in his melodramatic frenzy while all the guys launched into hysterical laughter at the frantic groom’s expense.

Zack could hear Darren stomping down the hall, then they all heard a grunt and a woman’s muted squeal.

“Sorry, sorry. Are you okay?” Zack heard a woman ask. “Oh my goodness…that’s number two.” The woman’s voice went on, now striking a chord with Zack. It had a familiar warmth to it, combined with a sultry smoothness that gave him a chill, lifting the fine hairs on the back of his neck.

Then Darren laughed. “No coffee this time, though! Lucky for the tux,” he said. “So, hey! I could really use your help for a second.”

“Sure, I have a second before meeting Amy in the lobby. What’s up?” The woman entered the room after the groom.

*

Zack shook his head in disbelief. A rush of energy sprinted up to his head, then chest, then throughout his entire body. He felt dizzy and hot and confused. But more, he felt release.
Out-of
-prison,
death-escaping
,
awake-from
-
a-nightmare
release.

Because the claustrophobic emptiness that had started in the lowest and deepest center of him had, since her second disappearance, spread up through his rib cage, tightening his chest. But now that emptiness was gone, at the mere sight of her, gone. It was replaced with new life, new hope. He was elated, in absolute awe. His lungs fully inflated as if for the first time, yet breathless at the same time.

And the rush of heat to his face was out of his hands, as was the further and involuntary tightening of his tux pants. Zack shifted his stance and tried like hell to be smooth, act normal, keep it together as he clasped his hands in front of him.

“Guys, this is Isabel Ruiz, our wedding planner,” Darren announced.

Finally, her last name. Ruiz. Isabel
Ruiz.

*

Here it is!
The dreaded reunion that he didn’t know was coming, the one she would have chosen to avoid like the plague, but had been at least hoping to grab him in private for clarification of mandatory next steps…and nothing else. But again, the choice was never hers. Damn Fate and her
fucked-up
sense of humor.

Isabel was without a doubt, jittery. Remembering that she had nothing in her stomach except for one grande mocha, she could blame it on that. But she knew the truth of it, Zack could affect her under any circumstance.

“The best man, his tux…” Darren walked her further into the suite. “Look—”

And there was Zack and his bulging…everything.

And his
everything
made her sex squeeze so tight, she felt her cheeks flush while her vision clouded.

But Zack might have been paler than her.

His stunned face was really closer to
ghost-white
, then cherry red an instant later. His
jade-colored
eyes were wide with shock, but with a softness to them, maybe a sense of solace, relief, comfort even?

He finally smiled, a glimmer of knowing in his eyes. And she wanted to run away, right out of the room, scared of caving to his charms and just melting at his feet then and there.

But she couldn’t. Instead, she quickly held out her hand to shake his, and gave him a neutral,
acquaintance-level
smile. “Good to meet you, best man.”

“Uh, you too,” he replied, narrowing his eyes, cocking his head just enough to show her his confusion, but he thankfully followed her lead.

Yeah, she could do this, just as long as he followed her lead.

And as long as she ignored the familiar, electric sensations rising up her body, similar to those jolts she felt the night before, starting out on the beach when she’d caved.

“He’s been in Vallarta for how long and didn’t even get fitted? And what multimillionaire doesn’t have a damn tux at the ready, anyway?” Darren said to Isabel while keeping his targeted gaze on his brother.

“I don’t go to
black-tie
bullshit often enough,” Zack defended while keeping his eyes targeted on Isabel.

“Then, I mean, what the fuck were you doing all this time, or more like, who were you doing? Goddamn priorities,” Darren mumbled, not so subtly pissed off at his brother, his best man.

As a matter of fact,
she
had
done
the best man not even twelve hours ago. Her cheeks blushed at the mere thought. She cleared her throat.
Okay. Take some actionable steps here.
Five steps to the room phone, she calmly called the front desk. “Is Arnold still down there? …Okay, is the resort’s tailor available, then? …Okay, thanks.”

Damn
it.

With Zack standing in his
porn-star
pose in his
too-tight
tux pants, she’d have to get his measurements herself and drop the garment off at Arnold’s offsite shop later. She’d done measurements before when in a bind, but this was so different. This was so bad. She looked over at Zack, his brows lifted, waiting.

She swallowed hard and waved him over to her, where the light was better. She pulled her tailor’s tape from her bag while her heartbeat choked off her airway and pulsed at her core. She reminded herself to keep cool.
We don’t know each other, and I don’t want him. At all. In me. Right now
…
Jesus Christ, Isabel, stop.

Without making eye contact, ignoring his wide, toothy grin, she kneeled at his feet to check the hem, then she stood.
Simplest measurements first, his
waist.

“Thank you for your help,
Señorita
Ruiz,” he whispered in her ear as she reached around his body, her hands, clammy and trembling as they met at his middle, unable to ignore his washboard stomach. She cleared her throat and noted the measurement on her pad. Then she stepped back.
Outseam
now
.

Shit.
She exhaled as she bent down to place her pad on the floor. God, if only she could hit
fast-forward
through the rest of the measurements, because, after this one, it was all straight downhill.

She dragged the tape down the length of his outer leg, then jotted down the outseam. She had to shake her pen twice to get it working when she noticed her arm hair had prickled, the break in physical contact was a kind of relief and agony at the same time.

Now, onto the inseam. She glanced up from crouching and, oh God, she felt like shutting her eyes tight so that maybe the nightmare would end when she opened them again. But she
all-too
-clearly remembered her hands at his hardened manhood just the night before, eyes closed in deep pleasure rather than her current mortified inhibition. Her mouth went dry. She needed water. Or to lick her parched lips at least. But that would’ve been just too awkward, undoubtedly misconstrued by the onlookers. Dear God,
pant-fitting
turned
amateur-porn
hour, just without the cheese ball music in the background. She just had to go faster and get through this.

You’re a professional, Isabel. Come on
now.

She inhaled, placed the tip of the tape on the seam of his inner thigh—at his bulging crotch, at face level—and quickly brought the tape down to the floor. Pen to paper,
thirty-five
inches. Done. She blew a hard breath out.

Then inhaled long and deep. The last measurement, his rise.

She stood, moved around his body to his side. Her breasts were helplessly pressed against his muscular arm. He turned his head just slightly but said nothing, his warm breath just resonating in her ear. She swallowed and with her left hand took the end of the tape to the center of his waistline at the crux of his back. She held the tape there and awkwardly reached her right hand around the front of him and through his legs to grab the tape, keeping her eyes behind him, the lesser of two glorious evils.

She swore under her breath when the tape slipped through her fingers—“Damn it,” she muttered. Trying again, she reached further back to catch it. For Christ’s sake, could this get any harder? She could hear throats clearing, a few whispers from the male peanut gallery, and a small snicker from the best man himself. Once the damn tape was in hand, she slid it all the way up to the front waistband, careful to keep her fingers from brushing his body. Then she pulled the tape nice and taught. Her eyes flicked at the tape and away—measurement noted. She released the tape from her fingers, then felt her lungs fill with air, not having realized how long she had gone without the vital stuff.

Okay then.
Fate, you horrid bitch.
“You’re all set. Just bring the pants down to the front desk for me, and I’ll take it from there,” she said, already grabbing her bag and walking toward the door.

“Thank you so much!” Darren called after her.

Before exiting the room, she turned back around as not to be rude. “You’re welcome,” she said, catching most of the groomsmen staring at her behind while Zack had his hand to his forehead. “See you all at the rehearsal dinner tomorrow night.”

By her third step down the hallway, she heard one of the guys from inside the room. “That woman’s ass could make me its slave! It was as nice as the booty from the bar the other night! Damn!” Laughter and a series of hand slaps followed, fading as Isabel moved farther down the hall.

But a booming baritone stopped her stride and her heart the next moment.

“Shut the fuck up and have some respect, you assholes!”

A loud silence filled the corridor from that point on while a totally unwanted surge of warmth filled her heart.

*

“Isabel!” Zack shouted after her. He could hardly
move
in his pants, let alone run, but he wasn’t going to let her out of his sight again, not without a fucking phone number at least!

Zack James, the avid unbeliever of all things cosmic or superstitious, couldn’t explain this
disappearing-reappearing
act with Isabel, his angel. Just a series of coincidences, of course. Whatever, though. He was damn thankful. His heart was goddamn thankful.

Isabel stopped short and turned on her high heels. “Yes, Mr. James?”

“What’s with the ‘Mr. James’?”

She motioned for him to follow her into the elevator alcove, and then set to whisper. “I’m the coordinator for your brother’s wedding, Zack. If I’m even suspected of being…
with
…a guest, a guest of my own event, the best man nonetheless, I could get fired, end of career, done.”

“Okay…I get it, professionalism and all that, even though we got together before we knew that—”

“
That
doesn’t matter, Zack. Not at all.”

“Okay, so, I’ll, uh, hang back. That’s fine. But damn it Isabel, why the hell did you vanish on me? I thought we clicked, you know? I mean, I know we clicked.” Sweat dripped down his back.

“Just, please…I can’t talk here, now. We can maybe…touch base after the wedding. But Zack, until then, we are strangers. I need to focus, and I need you…to keep your distance. Seriously.”

“Oh, like back there in Darren’s suite with your hands at my crotch?” he asked, not hiding his frustration at her dismissal of his major issue: her disappearance at dawn.

She tilted her head, looking at him with lowered eyes, somehow solemn. “Please just…act. Even if we are constantly thrown into situations together, you need to act. I can’t risk anyone knowing…that we, you know, know each other.”

“Fine. But after the wedding, we will talk.
Seriously
, I’m not leaving Vallarta until we do,” he asserted. “And I want your cell number. I’m not letting you off the hook, Isabel. I don’t do
this
, feel
this way
…ever! About a woman. But you…”

She gulped down air, then squinted at him for a beat. “But you have Destiny’s number…why do you need mine?” A smug expression spread over her perfect face.

“What? What does that even mean?” he snapped, trying to keep to a whisper for her.

“Destiny. From The Inferno? Was she on your playlist the night before you found me again? The number on the receipt?”

For fuck’s sake
. The girl from The Inferno? The one who’d passed her number through Armando on the back of the receipt. Annoyance spiked at this new dramatic element between them, but, in the same vein, he felt his blood pump hot through him at the slight hint of jealousy. “Isabel…I planned my brother’s bachelor party, and when I went to the club to arrange and pay for it, like, a week ago, a girl threw her number at me. Written on my receipt, I had to keep it. Doesn’t mean I called her.”

She shifted nervously, red in the cheeks, flustered. “Are you or aren’t you a womanizing prick?” she asked, sounding as if she were asking herself the question at the same time.

“I’m—”

An elevator’s arrival bell interrupted him. Then Isabel’s glare paused him until the three hotel guests got out of the car.

“The tux will definitely be ready for Saturday,” she said in an
ultra-professional
tone while still holding him quiet with her eyes until the hotel guests were farther down the hall.

“They aren’t even part of Darren’s wedding.”

“I don’t know who is or who isn’t right now, and it doesn’t really matter. Every staff member at this hotel knows me. This is serious, Zack. My career is my life.” Her golden eyes widened with intensity.

God how he wanted her.