A Friendly Engagement (12 page)

He checked his watch. The feminine sounds of Devi humming from the bathroom floated across the room. He knocked on the door separating them. “Are you almost ready?”

“I’m going to be a minute. Head on down, I’ll meet you.”

“I’m not in a hurry. It’ll look better if we go down together.”

“What you’re really saying is that you don’t like social situations and you want me to be the buffer.”

He could hear the smile in her voice. Actually picture one fine eyebrow lift as she shook her head.

“It’s your story.”

“Damn right it is. And I’ll tell it like I see it.”

He grinned. Devi had the inside track when it came to knowing his habits and reasoning. He leaned against the wall outside the bathroom door, folding his arms over his chest, waiting her out. “How long does it take to put on a suit?”

“The long part is deciding which one.”

Great. They could be here all day.
“You packed more than one? We’re only here for a week.”

Even through the door her soft giggle tugged at his awareness. He ran his hand through his hair and cursed under his breath. His own thoughts made him squirm as he eyed the bed. The focal point in the room. He’d be aware of her no matter where she slept this week.

“I know. But I’m a girl, and this is what we do. I had to pack a few because I didn’t know what my mood would be. One piece, two piece, string, vintage…”

String? Oh hell!

Maybe he should just head down by himself. But Devi’s comment earlier was right on the money. He didn’t like social situations. Give him a business meeting and he had the confidence of ten men, throw him in a social setting and he choked.

Shit. He knew all these people from years of meeting up at conferences. He’d even advised one or two of them with difficult clients. He wore a suit of confidence when it came to finances and could talk the subject inside, outside, backward, and forward. Small talk about life in general, that was an entirely different suit to wear. One that had never fit him comfortably.

He didn’t like being out of his element. But, then, who did? The only thing he had in common with the people downstairs was work. And he’d been forbidden to talk about it.

He massaged the side of his neck, easing the knots of tension before he pushed himself off the wall with his foot. Blue skies and pristine white clouds drew him to the windows across the room, and as he neared excited voices and playful splashes filled the air. He crossed his arms, rocked on his heels, and looked down upon the pool area. Several green and white striped lounges littered a green tiled area by the pool. Round tables with matching striped umbrellas nestled in small groupings at the farthest end of the patio. The meticulous landscaping scattered across the hill to the east featured a rainbow of colorful flowers, plants, and trees.

He sucked in a lungful of air. A light breeze danced across the treetops, then up into their room to billow the sheer curtains into a soft arch. He closed his eyes for a moment and let his body relax as the sounds of the distant ocean filtered his senses along with the chirps of birds and the whistling of the wind. He’d never felt more at peace.

A child’s laughter interrupted his thoughts, and he opened his eyes and skimmed over the people in and around the pool.

What did he have to contribute to Gwen Fox—the only woman vying for Bartow’s business—and her husband who raised a special needs child with sight issues, or Mike Jones and his wife who had not one but two sets of twins? And don’t forget Wayne O’Malley. With his wife and three kids they were a walking, talking advertisement for the perfect family. Their union rivaled the strength of a neodymium magnet.

And that was just the first three of his competition. Omar rubbed his chin and stood tall. Hell, no competition. Once Bartow heard his pitch their handshake would seal the deal. Of that he was confident.

As for Brian Price, Omar didn’t like the man. Not before and not after his father had asked him to resign. The man had the work ethics and morals of a worm. How he still had a career, Omar hadn’t a clue.

He checked his watch. “Lunch will be over if you…”

The bathroom door squeaked slightly as it opened, and he turned. His heart galloped, then went into a full-blown stampede.

Devi walked across the room. Although her hair fell down past her chest in two loosely gathered pigtails, they bounced with each step. So shiny, he wanted to reach out and touch the fullness, grab a handful, and smell. Hell, he wanted to slide her hair from the two flower clips and tangle his fingers through the silky-looking waves.

She chose that moment to spin in a circle. “What do you think? Too old school?”

“What?”

“The suit. I bought it on a fifties replica website online. I like the style, but I know most people don’t swim in suits like this. It’s a swimdress actually. Don’t you love the cute black and white polka dots? I adore polka dots. And how it gathers at the waist, and the sweetheart neckline, how cool…”

Her words were lost to him. All his focus centered on the rays of sunlight illuminating her face as her mouth moved, each word forming on glossy red lips but never quite reaching his ears. The way her eyelashes fluttered over her cheeks as she inspected her suit, tugging at the waistline and running her fingers along the edge of material that nestled against the swell of her breasts.

And then there were her legs. Where the hell did she get legs like that? Long, toned, and tanned the perfect shade of light brown. They looked smooth, and his fingers ached to reach out and touch them.

What the hell?
He’d seen her legs thousands of times when she wore a dress—the mainstay of her wardrobe—even caught glimpses of her upper thigh from time to time, but to see the entire package…

Holy shit!

She spun around again. “O, I want your opinion.”

Damn. Her legs were incredible, but her ass.
That suit did amazing things to her ass. He couldn’t stop staring, and when she turned back around to face him he craned his neck to try to follow the view.

He met her gaze and heat roared across his face. She took a few tentative steps toward him, her brows puckered over concerned eyes. Before he could blink, she touched his hand, and he earned a lungful of her vanilla scent. His mouth watered, but it had nothing to do with her perfume and all to do with the way she questioned him with the tilt of her head. Or maybe the way her fingers slid up his arm. Most definitely because she stood so close in that delectable suit he could reach out and touch her.

“Are you okay?” She squeezed his forearm.

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“You look funny. Kind of green around the gills as my grandpa would say.” She bit her lip to hide her shaky smile. “If you need CPR you’re going to regret needing it with me. Want to sit down?”

For some reason his confidence had plummeted within the last three minutes. He’d never felt uncomfortable talking to women. And never with Devi.

She didn’t wait for an answer but steered him toward the bed. He pulled back. That was the last place he wanted to be with Devi in arm’s reach. Not because he didn’t want to—
hell, yeah you want to—
but because he didn’t know what the hell he was doing or thinking. Until he could figure that out he needed to try to keep his head on straight. And that meant staying out of temptation’s path. “No, I’m okay. I think the lack of food has finally gotten to me,” he lied.

“Well, that’s kind of a relief. For a minute there I thought my suit
was
that bad.”

He couldn’t stop from chuckling. Leave it to Devi to break the tension with humor. “The suit’s great. You have nothing to worry about.”

She brushed her fingers through her hair, and the jingle of her bracelets became a familiar, soothing sound. “I don’t even know why I care, but going to the extremes we already have has my nerves on edge. And the comment William made when we first arrived didn’t help matters.”

He scrubbed his hands down his face, and when he opened his eyes he concentrated on the massive watercolor painting that hung on the wall over her left shoulder. He needed to look at something other than her in that damn suit if he planned on forming complete sentences, as well as not ending up with an erection that would become the new white elephant in the room. Hell, what would she think if she could read his thoughts? She’d probably put in her resignation.
Play it cool.
“You look fine. And what comment?”

Her eyebrows drew together as if she questioned his sanity. “The one about him being surprised we wanted to come. Why would he think Esterly wouldn’t want a chance for his business?”

Omar nodded. His brain rebooted. They were definitely on the same train of thought, except his derailed for a minute. “I caught that, too, but I’m not going to read anything into it. And neither should you. Let’s just concentrate on impressing and getting that contract.”

“Nice table turn, O. Usually I’m the reassuring voice. Anyway, I’m looking forward to the personal aspect of this week. It’ll be nice to see all these people in street clothes and talking life instead of business.”

“I’m only interested in Bartow.”

“I have a really good feeling about him. I know the best man or woman will win that contract at the end of the week.” She winked. “And you’re definitely that man.”

“No doubt whatsoever.”

“Positive thoughts bring positive results. William is going to love your idea.” She smiled and revealed that cute mole on the corner of her lower lip. “Now let’s head down and get some lunch before you pass out and I get all cranky from lack of nourishment.”

His heart had barely returned to normal as she moved across the room, still fidgeting with the neckline of her suit. The sway of her hips sent a pulsing ache straight to his cock. He might have to take a detour to the bathroom for a cold shower if he didn’t get his thoughts under control.

Sweat dotted his brow, and he cursed under his breath when she bent down—stretching the material of her swimsuit over her rounded rear—and grabbed her jewel-tone flip-flop that hit the floor earlier. She righted it, and then dragged the other from the depths of her duffel bag. She tossed it alongside the other one and slid her feet inside.

In order to keep at least one hand on the threshold of sanity he looked away to concentrate on his own sandals. He used his foot to remove his sandals from the closet and jammed his feet inside.

Yep, no denying she was all woman. A woman he’d now fantasize about with more ferocity than ever before.

This was going to be a helluva long week.

…

Later that night, after spending the day poolside for both lunch and dinner with all the other guests, everyone had headed up to their rooms to change for the campfire on the beach. Devi had opted for a quick cover-up over her suit, just in case she decided to take a dip in the cool waters of the ocean.

The moon sat high and bright in the sky. Devi grabbed a chocolate bar, marshmallows, and graham crackers from the table near the campfire and turned toward the kids. “Who wants one of my famous Girl Scout s’mores?”

“I hate to one-up you, but Boy Scouts do it better.” Wayne O’Malley nudged her in the shoulder as he came up beside her.

“You’re way off base, Wayne. Don’t forget, you married a Girl Scout.” His wife, Cindy, lifted the Hershey bar from his grasp and set up her assembly line of s’mores on the table.

Devi grinned. “Sorry, Wayne. Girl Scouts rule.”

“And Boy Scouts drool.” Cindy snorted, and several around them laughed.

William’s idea about everyone getting to know each other casually over a chat by the pool and then a campfire had worked perfectly. Today couldn’t have been any better if they’d won a million dollars. They’d swum, eaten a leisurely lunch, shot some croquet, and then she and Omar had played tetherball with the older twins while everyone else chatted poolside. She’d admired the way Omar had thrown the game to build the Jones boys’ confidence, even though he came off looking like he’d given it all his effort.

The afternoon had gone so well, everyone agreed to have a light dinner of finger foods around the pool as they continued to chat. And now, here they were on the beach with a roaring fire, lots of laughs, and too many marshmallows.

Devi eyed Omar as he sat around the campfire in conversation with Gwen and her husband. If anyone would give Omar a run for Bartow’s business, it’d be Gwen. She came across sharp, easygoing, and very likable. Devi didn’t know the couple well but had instantly bonded with Gwen earlier by the pool when she’d revealed her own vintage swimsuit underneath her modest cover-up. And the fact it’d also been polka dot material gave them each something to chuckle about.

Omar relaxed in the sand. He leaned back, supporting his weight on his strong arms and hands. His long legs stretched out before him with the perfect dusting of hair highlighting his tan. When he laughed, his shirt stretched taut over his chest, his arms flexed, and more sinewy muscles were revealed.

Damn.
She had the sudden urge to touch them. Feel his strength, his muscles, and his flesh with her fingertips. She’d never been into body-builder types, but Omar was the perfect mixture of toned and athletic without overdoing it. She’d never seen him in anything but a suit and tie, and even though he’d made the fashion faux pas of wearing sandals with socks—just like she’d guessed earlier—there was no denying his hotness. No denying the draw toward him that had pulled at her all week.

And definitely no denying that she’d like to see a lot more of him in a lot less.

Although not here to seduce her boss, the idea invaded her thoughts more than it should. What would he think if he knew she’d suddenly developed a case of the hots for him? They were here for Esterly Financial, not Devi’s libido.

So far this meet and greet had been good for Omar. She shouldn’t go messing it up with all kinds of sexual tension. He’d already loosened up more in the last six hours than she’d seen in all the years she’d known him. His smile seemed more genuine. His laughter came straight from the gut as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Even his shoulders seemed broader, his cologne more mesmerizing, his jokes funnier.