Page 13 of Natural Temptation

"I'm just having lunch," I tell her stiffly.

Zara raises an eyebrow. "Uh-huh. And the fact that you have a perfect view of a certain someone has nothing to do with it?"

My face grows warm because I've been caught red-handed like a kid with a cookie jar. I'd bumped into Zara earlier, before I found Meredith swimming alone at the hidden pool in the woods. Do older women gossip? While I ponder that notion, I mutter and stab at my salad with more force than is necessary. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Zara laughs heartily enough that everyone must hear her. "Oh, sweetie, you're not fooling anyone—least of all me." She slants toward me, her voice now a conspiratorial whisper. "You know, Meredith's been talking about you. A lot."

My head snaps up involuntarily. "She has?"

"Mm-hm." Zara is clearly enjoying herself. "She wanted to know all about the handsome, brooding general manager who rescued her from certain death at the waterfall."

Zara is teasing me, I know. Certain death? That ridiculous. Besides, this conversation is beginning to sound like high school all over again. I'm forty-two years old, for Pete's sake, not sixteen.

I grunt noncommittally, trying to appear unaffected by what Zara said. But inside, my heart is racing. Meredith's been asking about me?

As Zara continues to prattle on, I try to tune her out, but her statement about Meredith keeps whirling through my mind. I shouldn't care what a guest thinks of me, no matter how sexy she is. I shouldn't want to know more about her either. But I do.

"Look," I say, cutting Zara off mid-sentence, "I appreciate the, ah, information. But there's nothing going on between Meredith and me. There can't be. It's against resort policy."

That's not technically true. But I'll keep that information to myself.

Zara rolls her eyes dramatically. "Oh please. Rules are made to be broken, sweetie. Especially when there's chemistry like what you two have."

I open my mouth to protest, but Zara holds up a hand to stop me. "Save it, handsome. I've seen the way you look at her. And trust me, she looks at you the same way when you're not watching."

Finally, Zara saunters away. I try to focus on my food, but my eyes keep drifting to Meredith. As if she can sense my gaze, she glances up just in time to catch me staring. A slow smile spreads across her face, and she wiggles her fingers at me in a sort of wave. I quickly look down at my plate, my heart pounding. This is ridiculous. I'm acting like a lovesick teenager, not a professional resort manager. I need to get a grip. But as I force myself to eat, I can't help but overhear snippets of conversation from Meredith's table.

Maya's voice carries over to me. "So, Mer, what's the deal with you and the hot staff guy? Ryan, right?"

I nearly choke on my salad.

"Oh, there's no deal," Meredith replies, but I swear can hear the smile in her voice. "He's just...nice."

"Nice?" Lila scoffs. "Honey, that man is a living, breathing Greek god. And the way he looks at you? Definitely more than just 'nice'."

"Lila's right," Maya chimes in. "That man's icy exterior melts like a glacier on the sun when you're around."

I shift uncomfortably in my seat, torn between wanting to hear more and knowing I should leave. This is inappropriate on so many levels. But I've never thought of myself as icy, and that's rather disturbing to hear. Professional, yes. But I'm no iceberg.

"Okay, fine," Meredith admits with a sigh. "He's...intriguing. And yes, incredibly attractive. But he's made it clear nothing can happen between us. Resort policy forbids it, I guess."

"Since when has that ever stopped true love?" Zara chimes in, having rejoined her friends. "Rules are made to be broken, sweetie."

I can practically hear Meredith rolling her eyes. "It's not love, Zara. I barely know him. This conversation is embarrassingly juvenile."

"But you want to know him better," Maya suggests slyly. "Come on, you can at least admit it to us. We're your best friends."

There's a pause, and I find myself holding my breath, waiting for Meredith's response.

"Maybe I do want that," she finally admits, her tone softer than usual. "But it doesn't matter. He's not interested."

I grip my fork tightly, fighting the urge to stand up and tell her how wrong she is. Instead, I force myself to stay seated, my food forgotten as I strain to hear more.

Lila clucks her tongue. "Oh, honey, if you think that man isn't interested, you're blind. The sexual tension between you two is thick enough to cut with a knife—one of those high-carbon steel blades."

I nearly choke on my drink at Lila's words. The conversation at Meredith's table has taken a turn I wasn't prepared for. Part of me knows I should leave, that eavesdropping like this is wrong. But a stronger part keeps me rooted to my seat.

"It isn't like that," Meredith protests, but even from here I can hear the uncertainty in her voice.

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