Page 51 of Beached Wedding

Ashley was in the shower and this damned open-concept suite allowed me to hear the interrupted spray of water, indicating her movements, painting pictures I didn’t need in my head. The fragrance of shampoo and soap carried on the air, signaling all the wrong things to little Fox.

I stepped onto the lanai with my phone and tried not to think of the way Ash had felt on the sofa cushions beside me this afternoon, as we’d passed my laptop back and forth. Our elbows had brushed and she’d smelled like ocean and sunscreen and thefamiliar scent ofheras we crafted the marketing proposal for Togs and Boards.

She was so damned good at this stuff. Shane was the dreamer and could talk up Togs & Boards unceasingly, but he was a face-to-face, hand-shake closer. I was a bean-counter. I could manage the hell out of numbers and inventory and logistics.

Ash bridged the gap between our skill-sets really well. It killed me that she wasn’t going to join our team after all.

We needto talk about staffing, I texted Shane. It was the way we handled a lot of discussions, throwing it down as an agenda item that I would scroll through the next time we were in a room, talking business.

I’ll haveto hire someone else if Ash isn’t joining us.

Are you back?Shane replied.

I almost dropped my phone.My arteries felt scorched by adrenaline as I quickly thumbed out a reply.

Still in H.Staying the week.

Dot,dot, dot. Nothing. Dot, dot, dot again.

On the third attempt, Shane wrote, How did she take it?

I debated,then replied, Upset. But coping.

Was it a lie?I didn’t think so. I admired her resilience.

She still there?

Everyone is.Easier than changing flights.

Another long pause,then, Tell her I’m sorry.

I did.

I watchedthe indecisive dots play across my screen again.

“I’m ready,” Ash said, stepping onto the lanai in low-heeled sandals.

I guiltily clicked off the screen as lifted my head.

Her dress was a white, body-hugging mini with a halter front. The skirt was cut like an upside-down tulip and was covered in tropical flowers. She went on tiptoes so her legs were slender and a mile long while she gave a little spin to show me how the dress closed across her lower back, but left the upper half bare except for a criss-cross of spaghetti straps.

No bra.

Her hair bounced loose around her shoulders as she faced me again. She’d kept her make-up light, only darkening her lashes and glossing her lips.

I made myself look at that pretty smile and not allow a longer stare at the front of her dress.

I’d seen her braless beneath clothes before. I’d managed not to turn it into an erotic fantasy before. What the hell was wrong with me that all I could think about was finding the dark shadow of her nipples and biting through that pristine fabric?

Her smile faltered. “Do I pass?”

“Almost. Turn around again,” I requested, mouth dry. “You left the price tag on.”

“Oh, there’s a shock.” She laughed. “I always need revision. I’ll get my scissors.”

I checked my phone, but Shane had gone dark again.

Blowing out a careful breath, I followed her into the suite. She brought me a pair of nail scissors that were too small for my big fingers. I managed to snip the tag then ran my fingertip beneath the edge of the dress where it was pressed to her spine. The backs of my knuckles absorbed the warmth of her lower back as I felt for the sharp T of plastic that was lodged in the seam somewhere.

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