The Borrowed Ring

That had stung a little, though he didn't blame her at all for feeling that way.

She was making him remember things he had tried very hard to forget. Making him regret choices he had made during the years that had passed since that innocent kiss at the Walker ranch. And that was really starting to tick him off.

Maybe it was just the silence between them that was getting to him now. It wasn't normal for B.J. to be so quiet for so long. Combined with Bernard's tardiness—and the odd feeling he'd had ever since Bernard left them there—B.J.'s pouting was making him cranky.

She was annoyed because he wouldn't tell her more about his dealings with Drake. He knew it wouldn't appease her to tell her that he was trying to protect her by involving her as little as possible.

He sat in the lounge chair beside her. “Good book?”

Holding her place with one finger, she closed the covers. “Not bad.”

“Would you like a snack or something? There were cookies and pastries left over, you know.”

“I'm not hungry right now, thanks.”

“A miracle in itself.”

She gave a perfunctory smile in response to his teasing, then glanced toward the water. “When is Bernard supposed to return?”

Was she so bored with his company that she was even looking forward to seeing Bernard again? “Anytime now.”

“I guess leaving the resort today is definitely out.”

“I'm afraid so.”

Another night in the suite with her. He wondered impassively if he would survive it with his sanity intact. Last night had been hard enough, knowing that she was sleeping so close.

He was clinging to his willpower by his fingertips where B.J. was concerned, but he had no intention of letting go. His memories of her were too special to risk hurting her now. And he would hurt her if he allowed her to start romanticizing him or the attraction between them. No matter what justification she tried to attribute to his actions, he was not a man for her to admire.

The problem was, when she looked at him now, she still saw the boy he used to be. And when she treated him that way, it was unexpectedly tempting to pretend that he hadn't long ago changed into someone she probably wouldn't like very much at all.

“I hope Bernard doesn't take much longer.”

“Had enough of my company?” he asked lightly.

“It's just that I promised Ingrid we would catch her show in the lounge tonight.”

His eyebrows rose. “You promised that at dinner last night?”

“No. I had lunch with her today and afterward I sat in on her rehearsal session with the lounge band.”

He was genuinely surprised, since his few encounters with the cool, beautiful Ingrid had made him doubt that she had much interest in befriending other women. “How did that come about?”

B.J. shrugged. “We ended up in the same place at the same time for lunch. One thing led to another. She wanted a friendly face at her rehearsal, since Creepy Guy has done such a good job of sabotaging her self-confidence.”

“How was she?”

“She's not bad, actually. With a little training, and if someone advises her not to try so hard to emulate other singers' styles, she could be quite good.”

“Good enough for a recording contract?”

“I don't know,” she admitted. “I'm no expert on that sort of thing. But I think she has as much talent as several of the singers who've had moderately successful careers. And she certainly has the looks.”

“So you actually like her?”

He watched as her nose wrinkled just a little. Just enough to make his mouth go dry. “I don't dislike her,” she explained earnestly. “I just don't have much in common with her.”

“No kidding.”