The Borrowed Ring

“So maybe she's a bit…avaricious. She still deserves better than Creepy Guy and the insultingly condescending way he treats her. I hope she does make good in music so she can get away from him.”

“Don't kid yourself, B.J. Ingrid is with Drake because she wants to be, not because she has to be. Whatever she might feel about him personally, she likes the perks that come with sleeping with him. But if it makes you feel any better, she's history after this weekend. Drake has hinted to me that he's become bored with her.”

B.J. frowned, and he added, “I'm sure he plans to give her a generous parting gift. That's his usual style.”

“At least she'll have the chance to perform tonight. Maybe that will lead to something better for her.”

Daniel glanced at his watch again. “What time does she go on?”

“Nine o'clock. I'd feel bad if we had to miss it, since I promised her I'd be there.”

He found her loyalty to a woman she'd only just met and didn't even particularly like rather touching—and typical of her. He hoped B.J.'s innate faith in other people—himself, for example—didn't get her heart broken someday.

“We should have time to change and make it to the lounge to hear her. If Bernard gets here soon,” he added with another glance at the water.

“It seems odd that he'd be late, considering how Drake takes such pride in everything running so smoothly at his resort.”

“Yes, well, Drake's not so happy with me right now. He probably told Bernard to take his sweet time coming back for us.”

“Why isn't Drake happy with you?”

“He asked to sleep with my wife tonight. When I told him no, he became annoyed.”

B.J.'s eyes rounded comically. “He did what?”

“Of course, if you're interested, I could always tell him I changed my mind.”

The paperback hit him squarely in the chest. “You jerk. You made that up just to rattle me.”

He grinned, pleased to see the reluctant amusement in her eyes. “I told you you'd call me that again.”

“Now I'm convinced again that it was you who put the snake in my bag.”

Still smiling, he set the book aside. “Nope. I laughed my butt off, but I didn't do it.”

“Mmm.” She looked at him as though she were still reserving judgment on his guilt.

He wanted to kiss her. The urge was suddenly so strong he could almost taste her already.

Perhaps something of his thoughts appeared in his expression. B.J.'s smile slowly faded as she studied his face.

“Stop it,” she said almost fiercely.

“I'm not doing anything.”

“You're giving me that look. The one you use when you're putting on an act for Drake and his men.”

His annoyance that she thought he was acting at the moment goaded him into speaking more candidly than he should have. “I'm not pretending to be attracted to you, if that's what you mean.”

Her cheeks warmed, but her scowl only deepened. “If this is your way of distracting me from questioning you about your dealings with Drake, don't bother. I've decided I don't even want to know now.”

She was irritating him more with every accusation. “Do you really find it so hard to believe that I find you attractive?”

“Let's just say I doubt I'm your usual type.”

He had to admit, if only to himself, that she was right about that. His “usual type” would be someone who was worldly, sophisticated and who would expect nothing more from him than a few hours of companionship. Someone more like Ingrid, to be honest, though he'd had trouble noticing Ingrid's charms when B.J. had been nearby.

But actually his general boredom with his “usual type” had resulted in increasingly lengthy stretches of celibacy during the past couple of years. It had just seemed easier to focus on business rather than to pursue one meaningless encounter after another.