Donny nodded. ‘I’d fight if I could.’
Aspen smiled. ‘That’s what I thought.’
Donny turned to go and then looked back over his shoulder. ‘You sure you’re all right, boss?’
‘Fine. See you Monday.’
* * *
Cruz was going crazy. When a man let his ego get in the way of common sense that was the only conclusion to make. And the only one that made sense.
What other explanation could there possibly be when he had just offered a woman he didn’t even like ten million dollars to sleep with him?
And what would he have done if she’d said yes? Because he’d had no intention of going through with it. The very idea was ludicrous. He’d never paid for sex in his life.
So he wanted her? Big deal. It was because she was even more alluring than he remembered. And more stuck-up. Her hair was longer too, her cheekbones more defined, her breasts fuller, her mouth— He laughed. What was he doing? A full inventory? Why? There were plenty of women in his sea. Plenty more beautiful than this one when it came down to it.
And, yes, he liked to pit himself against an opponent for the sheer thrill of it, but making that offer to Aspen Carmichael had felt a bit like riding a nag into the middle of a forty-goal polo game without a bridle or a saddle and telling his opponents to have at him.
He certainly hadn’t come anywhere close to finding a way to ensure that she wouldn’t be able to raise the money to buy Ocean Haven herself—which had been his original goal.
Cruz poked at the half-eaten steak sandwich on his plate and stuffed an overcooked chip into his mouth. All he’d done instead was lump himself in with the likes of Billy Smyth and he was nothing like his lot.
No, you’re worse, his conscience happily informed him. You’d like to screw her and steal her family home out from under her as well.
Yeah, whatever.
Unused to having a back and forth commentary inside his head about a woman—or about his decisions—he shoved himself to his feet and headed outside to see if the answer to his problem was written in the stars.
Of course it wasn’t, but he stood there and let the warm evening air wash over him until memories of the past sailed in on the scent of jasmine and lilac. The sickening ball that had settled in his gut as he’d driven through the stone archway to Ocean Haven returned full force.
Focusing on something else, he listened to the distant murmurs of the light-hearted partying he could hear coming up off the darkened beach. Probably teenagers enjoying yet another stunning summer evening. Light flickered and wisps of smoke trailed in the moonlight. He imagined that many of them would be pairing off before long and snuggling down beside a campfire.
Unbidden, his mind conjured up an image of Aspen flirting with Billy Smyth earlier that day. He’d watched them for a couple of minutes before approaching her, not really wanting anyone to recognise him and start fawning all over him.
Aspen had used all her feminine wiles so the unhappily married Billy would notice her, but it hadn’t been until she had let him run his finger down the side of her face and held her cheek afterwards, as if preserving his touch, that real bitterness and anger had rolled through Cruz like an incoming thunderstorm. Would she have let Smyth kiss her and shove her up against the wall of the stable as she had done with him earlier? Had she planned to later on?
‘Damn her anyway.’ He slammed the palm of his hand against the bronze railing and told himself to forget about her. Forget about the way she had caught fire in his arms once again. Forget about the way he had done the same in hers. Unfortunately his body was more than happy to relive it, and he was once again uncomfortably hard as he headed inside and downed the rest of his tequila.
As far as Cruz was concerned the Aspen Carmichaels of the world deserved everything they got. So why was he hanging around his hotel room feeling like the worst kind of male alive?
No reason.
No reason at all.
The hotel phone rang and he crossed to the hall table and picked it up, almost disappointed to find that the number on the display was a local one. Because he knew who it was even before he answered it. And now was the time to tell her that he had no intention of giving her the money in exchange for her delectable body. No intention at all.
But he didn’t say that. Instead he threw his conscience to the wind and said, ‘I’ll pick you up at seven in the morning.’
There was enough of a silence on the other end of the line for him to wonder if he hadn’t been mistaken, but then Aspen’s husky tones sounded in his ear.