Her mind filled with all sorts of possibilities, and her throat went a little dry, but she still grinned. “Don’t mock my helpful nature.”
“Never. How about I help you, instead?”
“What are you proposing?”
“You live to please. Giver that I am, I’m willing to provide a detailed list of ways for you to please me.”
Just like that, the line between teasing and intense grew thinner. “I’m trying to reform, remember?”
“I can help with that, too. There are endless ways for me to please you. I’ll train you to be selfish.”
“Endless, huh? You may think I’m easier to please than I am.”
“Try me.”
“I’m considering it.”
“Consider quickly, Miss Wayne, because once I arrive, you’ll have a hard time thinking straight. Sweet dreams.”
“Your ego—” The dial tone filled her ear. She disconnected and glanced at her reflection in the mirror above the bed. Why his cocksure attitude left a smile on her face, she couldn’t say, but it felt good. She turned her eyes away from the grinning idiot. Her gaze landed on the bed—the rumpled spread and faint imprint of her body.
She smoothed the covers, but the underlying truth wasn’t as easy to erase. Come Sunday, his bed was exactly where she would end up. Exactly where she wanted to end up. Who was she fooling? Not herself. Not him. Why bother trying?
Why indeed? One important purpose of her fresh start involved letting go of the nice girl agenda and concentrating on fun, attraction, and amazing sex. Rafe offered all of the above, without putting her heart at risk, because unfamiliar as this particular path might be, it came with the security of a pre-arranged end point. When the deal closed, they’d both walk away. All the way to Tahiti, in her case, while he would turn his attention to the only commitment that held any long-term interest for him—running the entire St. Sebastian organization. Naughty Chelsea didn’t need commitments, and she wasn’t above sending a bold signal to make her intentions known.
She reached under her skirt, pulled her underwear off, and tossed the white lace onto the bed.
Message sent.
Chapter Twelve
Chelsea rolled over on the double-wide lounge chair, wiggled her hips into the cushion, and breathed deeply. Mild tropical humidity thickened the air, making the simple act of drawing it in a tactile experience. She stared ove
r the tips of her toes at the pool she’d climbed out of minutes ago. Sunbeams danced on the glassy surface, and she found herself momentarily mesmerized by the shifting light.
Soaking up the sun on the terrace of a private villa was not a bad way to spend a free Saturday afternoon, but guilt hovered at the edges of her bliss. Seven hundred Tradewinds guests trusted her and the rest of the staff to deliver a memorable vacation experience, and the weight of the responsibility kept intruding. She lifted her phone from the small teak side table and stared at the readout. No new emails, texts or calls.
Stop checking. Lynette will contact you if they need you.
Right. She relaxed into the chair, closed her eyes, and shoved the guilt away. Her thoughts floated along to the rhythmic sound of water lapping against the sides of the pool. A swim normally counted as a workout, but today she hadn’t done anything more strenuous than float on her back and glide through the warm water. Considering the amount of energy she’d expended, all this after-swim lounging bordered on hedonistic. Then again, this was Tradewinds, where hedonism ruled the day, and she did have the gorgeous pool all to herself.
Why not indulge?
She sat up and glanced around, just to confirm what she already knew. There wasn’t a soul in view. She’d never sunbathed topless before, but if there was ever an ideal moment, this was it. She unhooked her bikini, tossed it on the table next to her sunglasses, phone, and the short yellow sundress she’d brought as a cover-up in case duty called. Highly unlikely, her inner hedonist reminded her. She settled back on the lounger.
Liberating. A feather-light breeze tightened her nipples. Okay, liberating and stimulating. She let her eyes close, and her imagination immediately projected a scene on the blank canvas—blue-green eyes, an indecent smile, sure hands sweeping over her breasts, down her stomach, along the edge of her bikini. Heat unrelated to the afternoon sunshine gathered low in her abdomen and flowed in a slow, inevitable path to the place she imagined him preparing to touch next. She shifted a little on the cushion and squeezed her thighs together. Thank God for absolute privacy. If she wanted to enjoy a harmless fantasy, nothing would disturb her.
Something trickled down her breast. She pried an eye open, and immediately choked on a scream. A dark figure loomed over her chair, backlit by the sun. Nightmares of a trespasser with weapons and nefarious intent flew through her mind. She crossed her arms to cover herself, but before she could scramble to her feet and run, the shadow tossed something onto her lap. “I found these on my pillow. Much as I appreciate the welcome, I hope the rest of the guests have to settle for a mint.”
Her racing heart stuttered to a stop at the sound of the voice, and then resumed at a slightly less rampant pace. Rafe. In her lap sat the panties she’d left on his bed.
She raised her eyes again. He braced a hand on either side of her hips, planted a knee on the cushion, and leaned over her. He wore a single-minded expression and blue board shorts that rode low, leaving plenty of bronze skin and rippling muscle on display. Cool water dripped from his body onto her overheated flesh. She shivered.
“What are you doing here?”
“You know why I’m here.” He closed the distance between them.
She slapped a hand to his chest and felt his heart beating strong and fast under her palm. “I thought you were arriving tomorrow.”