Fake Engagement, Real Temptation
She was already walking into the private pool area that looked out over the Pacific Ocean. It was lovely and made of smooth tile, with a sand bar near the shallow end. She put her stuff on a recliner, the sun beating down warm and bright. Blake put the towels on the chair next to hers, ready to pounce and cover her up the first chance he had. She set herself up with a magazine, getting comfy in her spot to soak up the rays.
It did look nice.
He needed a distraction from all that smooth skin on display. He peeled his shirt off and tossed it on the chair. Maybe sitting in the sun would be a good way to shut his eyes and not look at her in all her pink-bikini glory. He was in the middle of shifting his neck from side to side, working out a kink from sitting on the plane for so long, and noticed Carrie sit up in her chair and…was she staring at him?
Her plump lips were parted and her breathing a little heavier than before. He couldn’t see her eyes through her sunglass, but he was pretty certain she was staring him down.
“See something you like?” he teased.
She shook her head like she’d been caught, because she had been. But to her credit, she played it off well.
“I was just unaware that chasing buffalo kept you in shape.”
He glanced down the front of himself. He’d always had cut abdomen muscles and strong arms. And the stupid part of his brain really liked that she seemed to like how he looked. Pointless, but he still liked it.
“You’ve got it all wrong, little girl. I chase the moose and ride the buffalos. Big difference.”
Her mouth hung open. “You can’t be serious.”
He just grinned. No, he’d never ridden a buffalo, but if it impressed her…
He shrugged and winked. “Guess you’ll never know.”
She opened her mouth as if to say something, but—
She yanked her glasses off as if they’d burned her. Her eyes went wide, focusing on something behind him. He’d never seen a woman look so terrified in her whole life.
…
No.
No, no, no, no!
This cannot be happening.
Carried couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. All she could see was Kevin. In an open Hawaiian shirt hanging off his lean shoulders, with several leather and chain necklaces dangling from around his neck. His shaggy hair was wild, and he looked the part of the breezy artist he was. But what really struck her was the fact that his arm was slung around a woman.
A raven-haired, exotic, legs-for-days woman who must have stepped off the cover of Sports Illustrated.
Humiliation was too tame a word to describe the sickness and dread running through her.
When Kevin’s eyes fastened on her, she did the only thing that came to her brain.
She grabbed Blake by the face and yanked him in for a hard kiss.
One Mississippi. Two Mississippi…
She counted, making sure the kiss lasted long enough for Kevin to take witness.
By three Mississippi, she darted her tongue in, thought she heard Blake groan, but was too distracted by the fact that the kiss felt amazing.
Kevin’s voice rang in her ear, and she stopped to look up.
Blake turned around, obviously confused, and then saw the same thing she’d seen coming.
“Kevin,” Carrie managed to spit out in the nicest way possible.
“Care Bear,” he said so casually, as if he hadn’t just broken up with her a few days before they were supposed to be married.