Tropical Leopard's Longing (Shifting Sands Resort 8)

Travis hissed and pointed to the supply closet as he went to take Breck’s place. “Back in the closet with you,” he teased.

Breck skidded across the hall and wedged himself in with the chairs and tables and seasonal decorations, just as Jubilee marched in with Scarlet and a contingent of important looking people, gushing over the hall that she had spent the past several days criticizing.

Breck left the door cracked, so he could watch. Beside Jubilee, Alison looked like she’d rather be anywhere. The party with them was the sort Jubilee clearly moved with: rich, blooded society types wearing overstated jewelry and flashy silks.

Then he saw Darla, at the back of the party, drifting behind them looking as dreamy and serene as an expectant bride ought to look. Someone had put the sparkly bride sash on her again.

He watched as the party inspected the work in progress, giving noises of approval over the various decorations and speculating over improvements. Helpful suggestions were offered, and Jubilee added a laundry list of things to Scarlet’s list as the owner wrote them down without comment.

Darla’s eyes strayed back to the far end of the room where Breck was watching from the storage room. After he had scanned the crowd to determine that no one else was looking his way, busy with Scarlet and the others looking at fabric swatches and candles, Breck edged the door open wider and blew her a kiss.

Her eyes opened wider, then crinkled into a helpless smile. It was her real smile, not her perfect society smile, and it gave her dimples.

To his delight, she trailed back to his end of the event hall as the others gathered to leave, ostensibly gazing up at the decorations being hung, but one eye for the storage closet. She stopped nearby, studying, to all appearances, the large native Costa Rican artwork hanging on the back wall.

Breck pushed the door a little further open, watching the crowd. They were discussing the outdoor decorations now and starting to stream out. The rest of the staff was being dispatched to other tasks, or hauled along with the wedding party. Breck opened the door just a tad further, and waved her in enthusiastically.

Smothering her giggles, Darla dashed into the tiny closet and threw her arms around him as he pulled the door shut. “I shouldn’t be here,” she whispered in his ear as he kissed her neck.

“I’m irresistible,” Breck teased her, then she was kissing him back and all he could think was how right this was, and how perfect, even locked in a dark storage room, trying not to let the chairs around them rattle when they accidentally ran into them.

“I should get back to the group,” Darla said reluctantly, slowing her kisses.

“Run away with me,” Breck said impulsively. “Forget the wedding, forget them all. We could run away to the mainland and live footloose lives on the beach eating bananas and coconuts.”

She gave an inhale. “We could steal the boat, sell my jewels…”

“Make love in the surf every night.”

“Together,” Darla said longingly.

“Forever…”

For one blissful moment, Breck let himself dream.

A te

nt on the beach, a simple life with his mate, Darla always by his side.

But guilt drew him back. “I couldn’t do that to Scarlet and the resort,” he said regretfully, remembering Graham’s words.

“I couldn’t do that to Liam and the home,” Darla agreed with the same reluctance. “We’d leave a wake of terrible things behind us, and… I couldn’t face my reflection in the mirror if I caused that kind of mess for my own happiness.”

“One more night,” Breck said mournfully. “We have one more night.”

One last kiss, long and lingering, and Darla sighed. “I really have to get back. They’ll wonder where I am, and if they caught us…”

“I know,” Breck said, but it was another moment before he could let her go, leaning his forehead against hers in the darkness.

They cracked the door and surveyed the fortunately empty event hall, and then Darla slipped out, straightening her sash carefully before walking calmly across the room as if she had simply been enjoying a moment of quiet reflection before catching up with the wedding party.

Breck escaped from the closet when there were no sounds of the party returning and went back to the ladder. He climbed it slowly, looking down over the large room thoughtfully as he picked up the staple gun.

He wanted to give himself utterly to her, and lacking that, he wanted to send her away with some kind of token. Jewelry seemed pointless, and he had nothing that seemed appropriate. Tears in a bottle? Something from his drawer? A letter would surely be too incriminating.

Nothing was right.

He savagely stapled up the next gather of the bunting and scaled down the ladder to move it and put the next section up.