At Any Price(87)

“Thanks, dear,” he muttered in parody and kissed me as he left.

And I enjoyed my day, taking in the snow-white beaches and even doing a little snorkeling. My guide took me to the beautiful Diamond Falls, a gorgeous cataract that fell down multicolored rocks and shimmered in the early afternoon sun. I savored the stunning scenery of this pristine Caribbean island, even though the heat was considerable.

I made it back to the suite by about four o’clock. Knowing that Adam would be returning to dress for dinner, I wanted to be ready. I put on the cute little sundress from London and the matching shoes, brushed out my hair and pulled it back and applied a little makeup to go with my brand new tan from the afternoon.

I was in the bathroom finishing up when he entered. I hurried with the finishing touch of my lip gloss and skipped down the stairs to greet him.

The first thing that clued me in that something was wrong was the stiffness in his shoulders, his jerky movements as he set down his laptop case on the nearby desk, unbuttoned his vest and undid his tie. I hesitated behind him, certain he’d heard me. But he made no acknowledgment.

I took a deep breath. “Hard day?”

He didn’t look at me but his hand stopped for a moment before resuming. “It was a pleasant and easy set of meetings. It’s been a very good day, actually.” But the tone of his voice belied him. It did not match his words. “Things were going well, until I checked my e-mail.”

I puzzled at that. “Bad news from home?”

He continued to avoid my gaze, rolling his tie so it wouldn’t crease and then laying it aside with care. “It was an e-mail from Heath Bowman, actually.”

I swallowed in a tight throat, heart thumping with sudden worry. “Is he okay? Was he trying to get hold of me?” Adam unbuttoned the first few buttons on his shirt. When he turned to me, his face was stern—and he looked very much like the asshat I’d first met at that hotel in Costa Mesa over a month ago.

“He’s just fine. But he had a lot to say to me—ranting about shit that I had no idea was going on. And I’m not a person that takes kindly to being left in the dark.”

I tried to think of what Heath could have written to piss Adam off so badly. Then, with a sinking feeling, I remembered my last conversation with Heath—where I’d asked him to refuse the money. God damn it, Heath. His timing sucked.

I folded my arms defensively across my chest. “What did he say that has you so pissed off?”

He shrugged stiffly. “You tell me. You seem to know a lot more about what’s going on here between us than I do.”

A dark feeling of foreboding fell on me like a blanket. I shifted my stance. “Yeah, there’s… probably more than one thing you could be pissed about.”

His gaze sharpened. “Thanks, Emilia,” he said tightly before walking off and disappearing into the bathroom.

Shit. I ran to my bag and fished out my phone, frantic to pull up my e-mails before he came back. Maybe Heath had cc’d me on the message he’d sent to Adam or at least deigned to tell me what he meant to accomplish by e-mailing Adam. This was the first time since arriving that I’d even looked at the damn phone. But the reception on this side of the hotel was crappy and my little loading symbol spun and spun without ever updating. When I heard him behind me I jumped and dropped the phone onto the nearby chair.

I turned, tucking a strand of errant hair behind my ear. His vest was off and the glimpse of his strong neck and chest where his shirt opened drew my eyes. I swallowed. I didn’t want this confrontation. Not now. Goddamn it. I didn’t want it ever, actually. I’d just wanted to fade back into the woodwork—let my fairy tale dissipate and go back to my normal life without ever having to deal with this unpleasantness.

I cleared my throat. “Okay, first, about the money…”

He looked at me expectantly but he said nothing, waiting for me to continue.

“After our conversation the night I stayed over at your house, I decided—I mean, I figured we wouldn’t go through with this, right? So—so I thought it was best to have the money sent back to your account. I asked Heath to do it. No—no services rendered, no payment. And this—this whole fucked-up thing can just fade away and we won’t have to—”

His jaw clenched. “I don’t want that money back.”

A fist closed at my side. His eyes darted to it. “Well tough shit. You’re getting it back.”

He sighed and looked away, out over the bay. “It’s not prostitution if we don’t sleep together.”

I shook my head. “Um, no. Wrong. You sent me money. We’ve been fooling around. It is prostitution. I obviously don’t have the same problem with it that you do, so don’t turn this around on me. I’m doing you a favor by calling this off.”