this.”
She felt like a kite that had fallen straight out of the sky. She even lost her appetite—and that hadn’t happened since the stomach flu knocked her on her butt a few years back. But after stepping outside, her hunger found its way back. A table, set with china and crystal and probably five different forks, sat beneath a small white tent. The white linen tablecloth rippled in the breeze. A waiter stood to the side, ready to serve them.
Teague pulled out a gleaming teak chair for her and she sat down, hoping he couldn’t tell this was the fanciest damn thing she’d ever seen.
Scalia’s could take a few notes here.
Two candles flickered on the table in the blue-black evening. “Wait, what time is it? It’s dark out.” How had he managed all this?
“It’s after six. The sun sets early here.” His face glowed in the candlelight, and she wanted to return to that kiss.
But she yawned instead, being the temptress that she was. “Sorry,” she stifled a giggle. She was still tired from the time difference. She looked up at Teague across the table and smiled.
“You like it?” He looked like a hopeful kid showing off his class project.
She could only manage to nod. No one had ever done anything like this for her. She fingered the napkin in her lap. Her heart lodged in her throat, and she had to look away.
The waiter poured their champagne, and she closed her eyes. The scent of the lingering coconut suntan lotion and the salty brine of the ocean left her swooning. She sipped her drink and let the bubbles tickle her tongue. The waves slapped against the shore and the night was so quiet it was easy to imagine they were alone on a desolate island. What would it be like to make love in the surf , she wondered.
The waiter lifted the silver lid off her plate and the savory steak set her mouth watering. Yet she barely tasted the food. She was too busy replaying the scene in the bungalow. Had he been serious? He’d come back to be with her? He was going to kiss her because he wanted to and not because someone was going to take a picture of it?
Kate’s insides hummed just thinking about it. So loudly, she could hear it inside her head. It was getting louder—a lot louder. What was wrong with her? She put her fork down and looked up. It was the thrumming of a helicopter flying toward them. A photographer leaned out the open door, pointing a camera at them, practically close enough to reach down and snag one of the shrimp cocktails.
Teague threw his napkin on the table. He kicked at the sand, swearing, then grabbed the plate of strawberries. “Can you get our drinks?” he shouted.
Kate snatched the champagne flutes and followed him inside, her hair swirling and her insides plummeting. Miss Sensible had kicked off her cement-filled shoes and clawed her way back to shore to add up all the facts. Teague must have known the photographers would find out about their private beach bungalow. That’s probably what he’d been doing up at the hotel, calling in a tip for them to come document this intimate moment with his new “love.”
Lordy, she was a fool. He hadn’t set up a romantic dinner for them at all. He’d set up a photo op.
He closed the door behind them, and she shoved the champagne bottle at him. “You can finish this. I’m going to bed.” She would not be played a fool like her mother had and give her heart to a hound. She was smarter than that. Clenching her teeth, she seethed.
He reached for her but she jerked her arm away. She shivered in the chilly, air-conditioned room. Wrapping her arms around herself, she scanned the room as if there might be a secret hidey-hole back to her world. She couldn’t go outside; the photographer was probably still there. She was stuck in paradise with a man totally messing with her heart.
Defeated, she flopped onto the couch and tucked herself into the corner. Was she more angry or sad? She couldn’t decide. She stole a glance at Teague, standing across
She felt like a kite that had fallen straight out of the sky. She even lost her appetite—and that hadn’t happened since the stomach flu knocked her on her butt a few years back. But after stepping outside, her hunger found its way back. A table, set with china and crystal and probably five different forks, sat beneath a small white tent. The white linen tablecloth rippled in the breeze. A waiter stood to the side, ready to serve them.
Teague pulled out a gleaming teak chair for her and she sat down, hoping he couldn’t tell this was the fanciest damn thing she’d ever seen.
Scalia’s could take a few notes here.
Two candles flickered on the table in the blue-black evening. “Wait, what time is it? It’s dark out.” How had he managed all this?
“It’s after six. The sun sets early here.” His face glowed in the candlelight, and she wanted to return to that kiss.
But she yawned instead, being the temptress that she was. “Sorry,” she stifled a giggle. She was still tired from the time difference. She looked up at Teague across the table and smiled.
“You like it?” He looked like a hopeful kid showing off his class project.
She could only manage to nod. No one had ever done anything like this for her. She fingered the napkin in her lap. Her heart lodged in her throat, and she had to look away.
The waiter poured their champagne, and she closed her eyes. The scent of the lingering coconut suntan lotion and the salty brine of the ocean left her swooning. She sipped her drink and let the bubbles tickle her tongue. The waves slapped against the shore and the night was so quiet it was easy to imagine they were alone on a desolate island. What would it be like to make love in the surf , she wondered.
The waiter lifted the silver lid off her plate and the savory steak set her mouth watering. Yet she barely tasted the food. She was too busy replaying the scene in the bungalow. Had he been serious? He’d come back to be with her? He was going to kiss her because he wanted to and not because someone was going to take a picture of it?
Kate’s insides hummed just thinking about it. So loudly, she could hear it inside her head. It was getting louder—a lot louder. What was wrong with her? She put her fork down and looked up. It was the thrumming of a helicopter flying toward them. A photographer leaned out the open door, pointing a camera at them, practically close enough to reach down and snag one of the shrimp cocktails.
Teague threw his napkin on the table. He kicked at the sand, swearing, then grabbed the plate of strawberries. “Can you get our drinks?” he shouted.
Kate snatched the champagne flutes and followed him inside, her hair swirling and her insides plummeting. Miss Sensible had kicked off her cement-filled shoes and clawed her way back to shore to add up all the facts. Teague must have known the photographers would find out about their private beach bungalow. That’s probably what he’d been doing up at the hotel, calling in a tip for them to come document this intimate moment with his new “love.”
Lordy, she was a fool. He hadn’t set up a romantic dinner for them at all. He’d set up a photo op.
He closed the door behind them, and she shoved the champagne bottle at him. “You can finish this. I’m going to bed.” She would not be played a fool like her mother had and give her heart to a hound. She was smarter than that. Clenching her teeth, she seethed.
He reached for her but she jerked her arm away. She shivered in the chilly, air-conditioned room. Wrapping her arms around herself, she scanned the room as if there might be a secret hidey-hole back to her world. She couldn’t go outside; the photographer was probably still there. She was stuck in paradise with a man totally messing with her heart.
Defeated, she flopped onto the couch and tucked herself into the corner. Was she more angry or sad? She couldn’t decide. She stole a glance at Teague, standing across
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