She’d been beautiful then, too—as were the decorations she’d selected—but he vastly preferred this wedding, and not just because he’d still be single at the end of it. Maybe it was the beach, or the minimal props, but the ceremony had a much more free-form feel to it, lighter and with less expectation. Exactly as he’d envisioned for both the mock expo wedding and the long-term resort wedding services.
Cara had done an exceptional job. Not that he was surprised. Keith was good at what he did and he’d have never asked her to organize the wedding if he’d thought Cara would fail.
Okay, maybe he was a little surprised. But only over the fact that Cara had nailed this task he’d dropped on her, which hit all the right notes. In-charge Cara rocked his socks.
He joined Cara at the end of the aisle with a mental list of small adjustments—the sand needed to be raked prior to the ceremony, the chef couldn’t be the officiant in the mock wedding because he’d be otherwise occupied and Cara should definitely stop smiling at him like that.
It was messing with his ability to concentrate.
“What’s got you so thrilled?” he asked brusquely. “This is all fake, you know.”
“Ah, but you’re wrong.” She speared him with a heated glance that he couldn’t have misinterpreted even if someone had blindfolded him. “I can see it on your face. This is exactly what you wanted out of the mock wedding. Which means you owe me one. And when I collect, it’s going to feel very real to you indeed.”
That had all sorts of interesting possibilities threaded through it and sounded distinctly opposite from her back-off mantra of last night. Asking Cara to assist with this mock wedding might go down as the best idea he’d had all week.
“Yeah?” he growled, mindful of the eyes on them. “We’ll see about that.”
His warning was all for show. He didn’t mind one bit being at the mercy of the windblown, in-command woman by his side.
She winked and ran through a host of instructions directed at other people while Keith made more mental notes. Cara had done a great job, but nothing was ever perfect. Tweaks could and would be made constantly, even after the resort opened.
Behind them, the music abruptly cut off and the crash of waves filled the silence. Gulls dived overhead, their cries a strange but fitting complement to the scene.
The chef, whose name tag said Hans in an amusing contrast to his clear island heritage, cleared his throat. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the—”
“You can skip all that,” Keith commented drily. “I do. She does. No one objects.”
Cara elbowed him in the ribs. “I’m in charge here and I told him to do the whole spiel. It’s not worth practicing if you skip parts. How long will the mock wedding take? Do you know? No. So shut up and listen to the vows like you wrote them yourself.”
The crowd muttered their agreement so he took a cue and closed his mouth. She was right, after all.
Hans started again, droning through the ceremony verbiage, and Keith shot Cara a sidelong glance. Under his breath, he whispered, “Careful what you wish for, sweetheart.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she murmured back, and the wind blew a lock of her honey-colored hair across her lips, drawing his gaze.
It meant that he was not one to let a prime opportunity pass to take full advantage of her advice.
“Only that I’m totally on board with not skipping one single part of this ceremony.” Keith waited until Hans pronounced them husband and wife and spun Cara into his arms. “Not one.”
With deliberate care, he brushed the hair from her lips and replaced it with his mouth. Slowly, to give her time to get used to the idea.
Her body aligned with his and it was like a sledgehammer to the gut. Desire exploded, racing through his veins, heating his skin. It had always been hot with Cara. But not like this, out of control with fast-burning lust.
I want you, right here, right now.
Forget slow. He tightened his arms and tilted his head to find a sweeter angle. Instantly, the kiss deepened into something better suited for behind closed doors. But he couldn’t stop.
She softened under his lips, so responsive that he nearly took her to the sand so he could properly explore every inch of her. Yeah, he’d done that plenty in the past, but not with this Cara, whom he could not get enough of. New discoveries lay just out of reach and the clothes between them needed to be gone.
What had started as a way to get her into his arms without protest had boomeranged on him, detonating into a wild inferno of need.
The hoots and whistles of the crowd registered a moment later.
Cara broke away and his hands fell from her hair, which was slightly mussed from his fingers. That was as sexy as her kissing him back.
What had happened to no distractions?
Cara Chandler-Harris had happened.
Without looking at him again, Cara clapped once to get everyone’s attention and reeled off another set of instructions, including a pointed reminder to Mary that she should document every step for the real thing. Cara’s wits clearly hadn’t been as affected by that kiss as his—he was still in a fuzzy la-la land.
He eyed Cara through the lens of a man who had just kissed a woman and wanted more. “You did a fantastic job with this run-through today. Would you shoot me if I asked for another favor?”
“Depends on what it is.”
There it was. Her gaze finally reflected a bit of the unsettled ripples in his own stomach. It cheered him for some strange reason and had him reevaluating how many bruises his ego could actually take.
“Check out the honeymoon suite with me.”
She’d either deck him or laugh. He knew it was too soon after the aborted kiss to try again, but with “challenge” practically tattooed across her forehead, he couldn’t let it lie.
Plus, he wanted to find out what else might be different from the first time around, because he’d bet anything the changes in Cara went well below surface level.
She didn’t blink. “Yes. I’d shoot you if you ask me for that favor. Try again.”
He grinned. “Come on. You said it was going to feel very real after the ceremony was over. That kiss was genuine, grade-A attraction between two consenting adults. Let’s get real, Cara. Real naked.”
At that, she did laugh as he’d predicted, and it warmed him dangerously.
“You’ve got an expo to organize and I’ve got dresses to alter so I can launch my designs into the big leagues. That’s as real as it’s going to get between us. For now.”
With that enigmatic parting comment, she sailed toward the main building, leaving Keith to wonder if she’d developed a fondness for playing hard to get.
The first time, he’d pursued her pretty fiercely but she’d proved easy to catch. Had that decreased her attractiveness back then more than he’d credited? Because he couldn’t deny he wanted her ten times more now than he had two years ago.
And neither could he deny he’d thoroughly compromised his ability to stay focused on this job. The faster he got Cara into bed, the faster he could burn off this blinding need to figure her out. She was one target he refused to miss.
Five
Rain began pelting the window shortly after Cara escaped to her room. The drops hit the screen with an unsatisfying thud, a distinct contrast from the rhythmic showers of Houston.
She wished she’d never heard of Regent’s bridal expo. If she hadn’t, she’d still be holed up in her condo, blissfully unaware Keith could still knock down her defenses and blessedly certain she’d fill the yawning chasm inside with a career until she could do a relationship again.
Her lips stung from being kissed by Voldemort Mitchell, who was every inch a wizard of seduction. But the real pain crawled through her chest, and she’d had enough of that for a lifetime. Keith equaled heartbreak. Period.
Why hadn’t she slapped him silly? She’d known instantly what he meant by not skipping parts, and even if she hadn’t caught the drift, the heated vibe shooting in her direction had been obvious. Every second she wasted on Keith was another second she couldn’t get back.
Meredith spilled into the room, laughing. She was drenched down to her underwear, evident by the outline of her bra under her blouse. It had probably been by design—Meredith had never met an exhibitionist tendency she didn’t like.
Water pooled under her ruined Pradas as she squeezed out her hair. Cara frowned. Scratch that; they were Cara’s ruined Pradas.
“When did I tell you that you could borrow my shoes?”
Meredith scrunched up her face as if attempting to recall. “When you were born? It’s a sister rule. What’s yours is mine and what’s mine is mine, remember?”
“Whatever. Ask next time.”
“As if you’d have said no or something?” She eased off the shoes and shed her wet clothes as she strode to the bathroom, unconcerned, evidently, about spreading water into the rest of the room. “And stop taking your bad mood out on me. It’s not my fault you still have a thing for Keith and he’s impossible to escape on a tiny little resort property.”
Cara made a face at Meredith’s back. “That’s not why I’m in a bad mood.”
The door to the bathroom shut midsentence, before Cara could insist the real problem was that she’d spent so much time helping Keith today, they were behind on alterations. The hope of gaining national attention for Cara Chandler-Harris Designs was the only thing that made being in this situation with Keith bearable. Her company was like her family and she refused to let them all down because she couldn’t stop being attracted to the wrong man.