Burned Deep (Burned 1)

Especially him.

Dressed in a black suit with a pewter shirt opened at the neck, he was devilishly handsome. His hair was a tousled mess, wildly stylish. His emerald eyes glowed warmly, invitingly.

“That will be all, Brandon,” he said to the valet, dismissing him.

“Of course. If you need anything, Mr. Bax, I’ll be right out front.”

Not that he had guests to assist. Must be a quick slip outside for discretionary purposes.

“Are you all right?” Dane asked as he regarded me closely.

“Sure,” I managed to say. Then, hoping to break the ice, I added, “Should I be wearing a hard hat?”

He chuckled, low and deep. The sound resonated within me, heightening my arousal. How was that even possible? I was absurdly turned on from just the sight of him.

“You’re safe, I assure you. The construction’s complete in the main building. We’re just finishing decorating of the suites upstairs and the penthouse. The casitas on the back portion of the property and the indoor aquatic center and its two restaurants are still being built.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of the chandelier.” I spared another glance at the one we stood under. “Looks like it’d wipe out an entire village if it fell.”

“I promise it’s not going anywhere.”

“Right. Okay.” Butterflies got the best of me. I was nothing but a bundle of nerves—not all of them emotionally jumping. Most of them were sizzling and snapping at the hint of his cologne wafting under my nose and the fact that Dane Bax had the most spellbinding presence I’d ever encountered.

He stepped aside and said, “Shall we?”

I finally noted that he’d kept a respectable distance when he’d joined me. Not crowding me at all. And he didn’t take my hand or offer his arm.

He’d seen my reaction to Kyle Jenns when he’d reached for me—not to mention everyone else who’d laid a hand on me the day of the Delfino-Aldridge wedding. He’d come to my rescue because of it all.

Clearly, he’d picked up on my minimal-touching stance. A thought that really should have pleased me. So why didn’t it?

Because you want him to touch you.

All. Over.

Good point.

Regardless, I maintained a few feet between us and started walking.

“Up the stairs to the mezzanine,” he instructed, following along with a slow, measured gait.

I eyed the elegant sweeping staircases on either side of the main portion of the lobby and asked, “Does it matter which one?”

“No. We’re heading straight out to the veranda.”

I ascended the marble steps, holding on to the fancy black wrought-iron banister because my legs shook a little from nervous anxiety—or were my knees weak from Dane?

“Did you design this place yourself?” I asked.

“Yes. Over the course of several years and with help from engineers and architects, naturally.”

I wanted to ask him how someone so young could afford to finance such extravagance but that seemed rude. And I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer. I was already sufficiently overwhelmed and intimidated by everything about him.

Except that his disconcertion over the money comment he’d made while we’d waited for our cars at the resort still ate at me. There was something there, something to latch on to. I just didn’t know what it was and that perplexed me greatly.

I tried to stay on safe ground. “What about the name?” I inquired. “I suspect it’s not Lux as in luxury, though this is certainly the very definition of posh. The pinnacle of it, really.”

He kept a span of two steps between us. Not that I could breathe any easier because of it, but at least I could speak now.