“You still came because you want to be here with me. Alone.”
Do I? And more importantly, does he?
HOLY SHIT.
This can’t be happening.
I’ve been so careful with my feelings for him over the years. Yes, Noah is ridiculously gorgeous. Yes, he’s a talented surgeon. And yes, I’ve heard through the grapevine that he’s a generous…uh…lover, but I kept all that information locked down deep in the recesses of my mind. I can’t entertain errant feelings for Noah. He and I have never been an option. He’s Natalie’s brother! He and I work at the same hospital! And most importantly, he’s so out of my league I doubt he even registers me as a willing female. To him, I’m probably just his kid sister’s friend, a shapeless blob he has to be nice to.
I look down at my petite figure hiding under my sundress. I’m not shapeless and I’m not a blob, I remind myself, angry that my breakup with Von left my ego so bruised.
“Lindsey,” Noah says from the other side of my bedroom door.
Natalie hears her brother and tells me she’ll talk to me later. I hang up and walk over to answer the door.
Noah’s standing on the other side, shirtless.
My brain is so slow on the uptake that I’ve stared at his broad tan chest for a solid thirty years before I finally realize he’s asking me a question.
“You want to come?”
I gulp.
Come.
Like…SEXUALLY?
I blink rapidly and he narrows his eyes, studying my weird reaction.
“Down to the beach,” he says, nodding his head in the direction of the water.
Ah.
Right.
“To the beach?! Sure!” I say, not because I actually want to go but because I feel like it’ll be more awkward if I turn him down. Why would I not want to go to the beach right now? It’s not like I flew down to Mexico to lock myself away in my room all week.
“I’ll wait for you to change,” he says, throwing a glance down my dress before I take a step back and quickly shut the door in his face. I pivot on my heels and press my back to it, squeezing my eyes shut.
This is not going according to plan.
I’ve been in paradise for like an hour and I’m already crumbling.
I imagine what Natalie would tell me if she were here and if the man in question wasn’t her flesh and blood.
Don’t take everything so seriously. Have fun! Be flirty! Enjoy your vacation!
I listen to the fictional advice generated by my own psyche and pull out the skimpiest bikini from my luggage, the one I threw into my suitcase in a brazen you-go-girl, power moment. I didn’t think it’d see the light of day, but here I am tying the red strings around my neck and back and adjusting my cleavage in front of the mirror.
Damn.
Even I have to admit it’s sexy. The red color pops against my fair skin.
It’s the exact opposite of how I usually look around Noah. Most of the time he sees me in my pink scrubs on my way to and from delivering babies. I’m generally wearing a floral-printed surgical cap and/or sporting leftover red lines on my cheeks thanks to the medical-grade face masks.
I wink at my reflection then grab the hibiscus from the bathroom counter and reinsert it behind my ear. With my light blonde hair hanging down around my shoulders, I look like some kind of hot tropical goddess. Then my eyes land on the empty margarita glass and I wonder—briefly—if I only feel like a goddess because of the alcohol pumping through my system.
I don’t have time to reconsider my bikini choice though because Noah calls my name from the living room and I’m forced to join him. I wrap a light sarong around my waist and then pause with my hand on the doorknob.
Here goes nothing.
Noah’s back is turned to me when I walk out, but when he glances back over his shoulder, his dark eyes do exactly what I hoped they would: smolder.
His brows rise a half-inch in shock and then he flashes a confident, devilish smile that melts me from the inside out.
“Nice bathing suit.”
I respond with a This old thing? shrug that feels so wonderfully cool I can barely stand it. Go me! I think as I breeze past him to slide the glass door open and step out onto the terrace.
It’s a hot afternoon, and without the ocean breeze, I’d be sweating bullets. Even with the breeze, I’m forced to pull my hair up off my neck and twist it into a bun as I walk out into the sand.
I claim one of the hotel’s beach chairs and drop my magazine and sunglasses down onto the woven wicker fabric before untying my sarong. Noah watches me. I’m not looking at him, but I can see him in my periphery as he stands motionless next to the chair beside mine.