After they’d parted on miserable terms, she swore she’d never be that vulnerable to a man again. But her frozen limbs and speechlessness betrayed her.
Did he know? Did he have any idea how painful this was for her?
She tilted her face up to him. His gaze flicked to her lips. Without thinking, she closed her eyes and waited for the press of his mouth.
Suddenly, he released her. Her eyes flew open and she watched him saunter back into the master bath. He slammed the door.
Ellie recoiled as if she’d been slapped. In the span of five minutes, an old scar had ripped open inside her.
Heart throbbing, she exited the suite. As she traveled the hallway toward her uncle’s office, the floor felt uneven beneath her feet.
She had no idea what was going to happen now. However, she recognized one certainty—whatever transpired in the next five days, Carter Stratton would be at the center of it. For better...or worse.
Carter opened the bathroom door two minutes later. Ellie was gone.
Something strange happened in his chest, a pinching sensation he didn’t like. He brushed it off. Now that he was back on the island, he could sever the final thread tying him to this woman.
Swiping his cell phone off the bedside table, he hit number one on his speed dial. The island’s remoteness delayed call connection for a full minute. When it did connect, the line sounded scratchy.
Yet no amount of static subdued the voice on the other end that picked up. “Stratton, where in the hell are you?”
Carter shoved the phone to arm’s length to avoid bursting an eardrum. He set it on the countertop and pressed speaker phone. “Neville, I want a progress report.”
“When I told you to lay low, I didn’t mean fall off the face of the earth.”
Carter smoothed a dollop of gel through his hair, styling the dark blond strands. “I said I’d be in touch.”
Neville sounded like he was choking. “Haven’t you bothered to check your account? Voice mail? Email?”
“Nope.” Carter pulled on a pair boxer briefs. “Enlighten me on your progress.”
“The funds are still tied up.”
“And?” Carter lathered shaving cream in foam circles across his day-old beard growth. “What are your plans?”
“It’s Sunday. Nothing can move until tomorrow.” The phone echoed with the weak connection. “Last night my friends mentioned they may buy off the environmentalists.”
“Forget it.” Carter scraped his razor under his cheekbones, along his jaw, up the arc of his neck. “I don’t want to be associated with your ‘friends.’”
“But think of it, Carter. Fifty-million .”
“And my reputation will be worthless.”
“We’ve worked on this for six months!”
“I don’t pay people off to get what I want—I make the right decision the first time.” Carter finished shaving and tapped his razor on the edge of the sink.
“So that’s it. You’re scrapping six months of effort. For what?”
“Another hotel.”
“ What? ” Neville roared. “Please don’t tell me you’re on El Dorado Island.”
Carter rinsed his face, patting it dry with a towel.
Neville took his silence as guilt by omission. “Are you an idiot?”
“Only when I listen to you, and ignore my instincts.”
Unfazed, Neville reminded, “You’ve never put pleasure before business.”
“I have the chance to accomplish something no amount of money can compensate. I’m taking it.” Carter dunked Armani Code cologne on his hands and slapped it along his neck. The scent of almonds and cinnamon mingled with woodsy undertones. He swept it down his pecs and torso, following the thin line of hair that drifted from his navel to below his waistline. “The Montgomery Hotel is better than Pierce.”
“The place is a dump! Only naïve investors would consider it. You’re better than that.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“Why in the world would you—?” Neville paused then let out a maniacal laugh. “It’s about that girl, isn’t it?”
Carter ground his teeth. “What about her?”
“Fine, get her out of your system. Enjoy your make-up sex. Maybe then you’ll concentrate on real prospects.”
Carter grabbed the phone. “Don’t tell me how to run my life. Handle my money and do your job.”
He ended the call, tossing his cell onto the marble sink counter to avoid throwing it across the room. He didn’t need advice. He knew exactly what he was doing.
Pulling on a pair of Michael Kors jeans, he zipped the fly. His mind went to his encounter with Ellie. He’d nearly lost himself in the way her body had felt pressed against his. Then she’d lifted her lips to him, and he wanted to take her right there against the wall. He’d almost given in again to that electric obsession he’d always had for her.