Page 60 of Tempt Me

Luke points at the door. “Was Caden Everton spending the night here?”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“What the fuck, Isla? That’s not appropriate.”

Through the haze of exhaustion, my irritation flares. “Excuse me?”

There’s a hardness in Luke’s normally gentle brown eyes, and his mouth turns down at the corners. “It was one thing to get a text from some dude on my fiancée’s number. It’s another to show up and he’s here. You can’t have random men sleeping at your apartment. And definitely not your ex-boyfriend, I mean, what were you thinking?”

My head is spinning. “Luke,” I say as sharply as I can. “I had a crazy high fever, I was throwing up, and I was sweating through my clothes. I have never been so sick in my life. You think it matters who was bringing me Tylenol or water or taking my temperature? I would rather it had beenyoubut you weren’t around. And I understood that—I wanted you to enjoy the party.” I put my hands on my hips. “Besides, we talked about this—Caden isnotmy ex-boyfriend. What happened between us was nothing—it was a blip that was over a long time ago.” My stomach curdles as I say the words but what Luke is implying is just plain wrong. “A doctor literally told him to monitor me for forty-eight hours. Caden was looking out for me the way any of my friends would. Charlotte was looking out for me too. I could barely hold my phone or form coherent sentences. And you’re saying I was being inappropriate to accept help?”

Luke looks immediately chastened. “I’m so sorry. You’re right. Of course, you’re right.” He sweeps me up in his arms and presses his lips to my forehead. “I guess seeing another guy in your apartment, my alpha instincts got the better of me.”

I wrap my arms around him, feeling the indents of his spine and the firm muscles around his shoulder blades. “I guess I wouldn’t love some other woman taking care of you if you were sick,” I admit. “But I trust you.” I gaze up at him. “And I would be glad someone was there for you, whether it was a man or woman or a freaking giraffe.”

Luke chuckles. “I’ll have to remember to hire a giraffe nurse next time I get sick.” He sighs. “I’m sorry to imply anything untoward happened. I trust you too.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Untoward?”

He scratches the back of his neck. “My mom uses that phrase,” he says with a chuckle. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re feeling better. Your hair smells really good, did you get a new shampoo?”

“Yeah,” I say then change the subject because Luke does not need to hear that Caden bought me shampoo. “So, tell me about your weekend!”

Luke lights up. “Oh, it was great. Chad’s a total beast—Bethany has her work cut out for her.” He laughs and I smile along, though this is one of those things he says that I don’t quite understand: Chad being a beast or Trip acting like a legend. But I love the way he tells stories, acting out all the parts. He launches into some tale involving a sailboat, a karaoke machine, and a parrot.

“Want to play a game of Scrabble?” I ask when he’s finished.

He wrinkles his nose. “Nah, come here babe, let me show you some of the videos I took, we went snorkeling and Trip has an underwater camera. It was awesome.”

“Okay,” I say, and we snuggle up next to each other on the couch.

He spends the night, and as I drift to sleep nestled against his chest, I feel a sense of contentment that’s only partially interrupted by nagging thoughts about Caden.

I wish Luke had arrived just five minutes later. I could have gotten the answers about why he left, after all this time.

I didn’t leave because I didn’t want to be with you.

I guess I’ll have to leave it at that.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CADEN

I get home and find Alistair lounging by the pool with an open bottle of wine and a half full glass on the table beside him.

“Early start?” I say. “It’s barely noon.”

Al shrugs. “I’m off today. Don’t be judgy.” He slides his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose and waggles his eyebrows at me. “Daisy says you spent the weekend with Isla Davenport. You know she’s engaged right? Quel scandale!”

“She had the flu, you dick,” I say, dropping into the lounge chair beside him. “It wasn’t anything scandalous. And I speak Spanish, not French.”

“Mom made us learn both, as I recall,” Alistair says. “Though I really only remember the swear words.” He makes a gesture up toward the house and a few moments later, one of the staff comes out with a wineglass for me.

“I’m good,” I say.

“Oh shut up and have a drink with me, Caden.” Alistair pours the wine and hands it to me, then tops up his own glass. “I’m glad you’re back. I’ve been thinking.”

I give him a side-eye. “That sounds ominous.”

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