Page 67 of Stuck in Paradise with You

Not in seven years and a multitude of dates and failed, doomed-from-the-off relationships have I felt the pull, the draw, the irresistible smolder of a man the way I do now, in the most absurd circumstances, with Luke.

I realize, to my sheer mortification, that I muttered my words loud enough for Luke to hear. When I take the sandbag from him, his fingers coming to rest over mine and staying there, urging me to look up into those brown pools, he says, ‘Maybe it isn’t supposed to but we both know it is.’

I’m acutely aware of his touch and how it’s penetrating my skin; it’s in my bloodstream and coursing to every part of my body. My eyes fall to his lips. The same lips I’ve kissed so many times before.

He moves his face closer to mine, his eyes narrowing, hooded and dark, and I watch his attention fall to my mouth too.

‘I like you wearing my clothes,’ he says. ‘I always did.’

It would be so easy to move up an inch, closer an inch, to let him fill the space between us, to take my mouth closer to his.

Luke’s hand comes toward my face and I watch it as if his movement is happening in slow motion, the anticipation of his fingertips caressing my cheek, his thumb stroking my neck, has my insides spinning and flipping in unbearable turmoil.

‘We’re nearly done,’ Joe says, his voice coming from behind me somewhere. He’s blowing air like he’s been working out. We have, really, all day.

I dart back from Luke, hot and flustered. A lucky, lucky, lucky save.

Yep, wholly fortuitous.

Joe is my client and honestly, even if he wasn’t, I can’t just forget what Luke did to me. My job is a layer of protection I need because clearly my head, my heart and my freaking libido can’t be trusted.

I panic-grab the sandbag and tell Joe, ‘Great!’ an octave higher than my voice ought to be.

Luke doesn’t move. He holds a long blink and I watch his chest rise and fall, then his jaw is stiff as his focus shifts to Joe. ‘Yeah, great.’ His words are gruff.

Did we almost kiss?

Whatever games we’re playing with each other, the temptation is real.

31

LUKE

‘Is there a reason you’re literally watching my every move?’ I ask Joe. He’s not stopped staring at me the whole time we’ve been layering the last wall of bags, not since he interrupted whatever that was between Carrie and me.

What was that? Was she going to kiss me? Was I going to kiss her?I fucking wanted to.

Joe pouts, plants his hands on his waist, and remains silent, his gaze flicking to Carrie then back to me.

Would it bother him if something happened between the two of us?She’s the business advisor, sure, but it hasn’t occurred to me before now that Joe would care.

Not that anything is going to happen. No matter how sold on the idea I might be –am I?– Carrie is dead against it.

I think.

Like a magnet, she drags me to her, again. She’s finished, at last, and she stands back to assess the work we’ve done, reaching up her arms to stretch out. Her hoodie,myhoodie, creeps up, exposing her hips in those sprayed-on pants. Hips that fit perfectly the shape of my hands. When I’ve trailed my fingersacross her skin just there, bumps have risen on her skin. She’s shivered, the way she did under my touch on the boat yesterday.

That’s how I know there’s hope.

I swallow, wetting my dry throat. We’ve been there before and it ended in disaster. It almost ended me. But goddammit, I don’t know how to be around her and notwanther.

I hope I haven’t been watching her for as long as it feels I have because Joe is still staring at me.

Hoping he didn’t notice how my skin heated watching Carrie, how it chilled thinking about how badly it ended last time, I stack the last sandbag on the wall we’ve erected and slap my hands together to rid them of grit.

‘Can’t read your mind, Hettich,’ I tell him.

He scratches the back of his head. ‘Right. Ah, I need to speak with you about something.’

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