Barefoot in White (Barefoot Bay Brides) (13 page)

“Don’t.” Willow pointed at him.

He froze, his expression dark. “Don’t what? Don’t let her live? I have to. That’s the whole point of the book. If she dies, then…then. No, I won’t even listen to that. It’s not up for consideration.”

Definitely still alive in his memory. “I was going to say, ‘Don’t go underwater again.’”

“Oh.” He stepped closer, humor gone from his eyes as they narrowed and locked on her.

She sighed, giving a little kick. “Hey, listen to me. That book
doesn’t
suck. You should really, really write your heart out and…”
Heal whatever’s hurting you
. “Get this off your chest.”

“I don’t have anything on my chest,” he said.

Only a tattoo of her dad’s biggest-selling album and some pretty well-developed muscles. Not to mention some memories that were apparently weighing him down.

“Why don’t you just tell me the book is great and I should have at it?”

Good question. Because, deep inside—hell, right on the surface—she cared about him and wanted to help him. Well, get out the Stupid file and stick
that
thought in there. “Because the book is so good I didn’t want to stop reading. That’s not something just anyone can do, you know. As soon as I finished one scene, I wanted to gobble up another.”

He took a few steps closer. “Thanks, Willow.”

“Thanks for letting me read it.”

He toyed with her ankles again. “You care if that dress stays dry or not?”

She laughed. “Yes, I care if it stays dry.”

“Really? ’Cause I was thinking about…more water games.”

“More subject avoidance, I’d say.”

He quirked a brow and fought a smile. “Semantics. Come on in.” He tugged at her legs.

“No.”

“If your dress gets soaked, you’ll have to take it off. Remember the regs. Full frontal gets full frontal.”

She kicked some water at him. “I think it’s more like ‘honest critique gets dunked.’”

Without answering, he clutched her ankles firmly, very slowly moving them side to side over the top of the water.

“Don’t even think about it,” she warned.

“Too late for that. I’m thinking.
Hard
.”

The emphasis on the last word hit her like a little bullet way down low in the part of her that was burning enough to need to be in that water. This was desire. She might not know a lot about…this, but she knew desire when it lit up her ladybits with sparks.

She was definitely playing with fire, in spite of all the water around.

“I have a conference call scheduled in a few minutes, and I’m not sure what my partners would say if I arrived in a soaking-wet dress,” she finally said. In other words,
I gotta run
.

“Misty left some clothes in the closet that she didn’t feel like packing.” He tugged her legs a little harder, moving her rear end over the warm stones by the pool. Temptation nearly drowned her as if she were already under.

“As if that pencil’s clothes would fit me.”

He winced, a look she knew all too well. Shame or discomfort or flat-out not knowing if it’s proper to mention a woman’s weight—even her former, dieted-off weight—or not.

“Then take off your dress and keep it dry.”

She gave in to a smile. “I’m not going swimming with you.”

“But you’re thinking about it.”

“Am not.”

“Of course you are. I can tell by”—very slowly, he spread her legs, her swing skirt easily accommodating the move—“your eyes.” He stepped right between her legs, his waist at the side of the pool. She had to look down at him. She had to put her hands on his wet, strong shoulders because…she
had
to.

“What about my eyes?” she asked, spreading her palms over the warm, hard skin.

“They go full-on slate gray.” He closed the space and then slowly lifted his face toward hers. “When you’re thinking about sexy things.”

Then they must be positively silver around him. “There is a naked man standing between my legs, his face two inches from my boobs. Yes, it is possible I’m thinking sexy things.”

That made him grin. He leaned a little closer, enough so that she could feel his breath on her cleavage, exposed in a scoop-necked top. “Then come in the water, Willow.”

She pushed his shoulders back. “On one condition.”

He looked to the sky. “I hate conditions.”

“One.”

His gaze dropped to her breasts, his expression hungry enough to make the very nipples he was so close to pop like little buds. “All right,” he conceded. “What’s the one condition?”

“Tell that story how it really happened.”

Even in the blazing sunshine, he paled. “No.”

She shrugged, and in one fast, sharp, lightning move, she escaped his touch and stood up. Or maybe he let go. She couldn’t tell. “Then your book won’t be as wonderful as it could be. I have to go.”

“Willow, come on. Don’t leave.”

“I have work to do. And so do you.” She stepped away from the side of the pool and blew him a kiss. “Or you could hide underwater.”

He waited exactly three heartbeats before he did precisely that. Willow left before he emerged and tempted her to stay.

Chapter Eleven

“Hey, you’re here.” Gussie pushed Willow’s kitchen door open, wearing a baseball cap and beach cover-up, her skin glowing from an afternoon in the sun. A few strands of her rarely seen natural golden brown hair slipped out from under one side, and her unmade-up eyes looked almost eerily clear after seeing them under pounds of makeup all week. “You never came back to the office, so we figured you were still with Nick.”

“God, no, I left him this afternoon and had a bunch of other stuff to do. I figured with Misty gone, we didn’t have that much pending at work today.”

“We didn’t. Ari and I went to the beach. She just went upstairs to change, and I was on my way when I saw you in the window. I guess you don’t want to go out to dinner.” She gestured toward the giant salad bowl and the carrot and knife in Willow’s hand.

“No, I’ll eat in tonight. How was the beach?”

“Hot. How was Nick?”

“The same.” She eased into a smile. “He swam naked.”

“Get out of town!”

“I wish he was, but he’s not.”

“Damn, I should have put big candy on that one.”

Willow laughed and handed her a carrot. “Here. Eat nature’s candy.”

Gussie’s face said exactly what she thought of that, but she took the carrot. “Were you naked, too?”

“Nope. That never seems to stop him, though.”

She crunched a bite, eyeing Willow from under her baseball cap. “Can I ask why not?”

“As if you wouldn’t ask even if I said no to that question.”

Gussie shrugged. “True that. So, what’s going on with you two?”

Willow didn’t answer right away, wiping her cutting board clean and choosing a pepper to cut up next. “Nothing, actually. No, that’s a lie because there’s definitely something, but I don’t think it’s anything.”

She got a good guffaw in response to that. “So, nothing, something, or anything. Take your pick.”

It was as convoluted as it sounded. “Well, he asked me to read what he’s written of his novel, and I did, but I don’t think he loved what I had to say.”

“It’s not good?”

“It’s very good, but it could be even better. He’s holding back and not really being honest.” She looked up, knife in mid-cut. “He seems to want my opinion but not want it, you know? Plus, who am I to tell him what to write? I read books, not write them. But I really wanted to be honest, because it’s good enough to be amazing if he works on it.”

“The fact that you’d tell him that makes you the perfect person to give him an opinion. Plus, he probably figures next time you will get naked with him.”

Willow shook her head. “He just likes to get naked.”

“And the problem with that…”

“I…I…”
Am not going to talk about this.
“It’s too soon and too late.”

Gussie laughed again. “You’re a walking contradiction today, Willow.”

“Because I’m confused,” she admitted, setting down the knife. “This is not my first time around Nick, as you know.”

“But everything is different now, especially you.”

Not everything was different now. There were some things that no diet, discipline, or distance would ever change. And the truth of that was starting to weigh heavily on her.

“Right, Willow?”

Willow smiled at her friend. A dear friend, a trusted friend, and a friend who wouldn’t mock her for choices she’d made or hadn’t made in the past, right? “Right,” she agreed, her voice tight. Then, on a sigh, she added, “I guess.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that…” She toyed with the pepper stem, twirling it in her hand and thinking how Gussie would react if she knew everything about Willow. It wouldn’t change how Gussie felt about Willow, but—

“Trouble, you guys.” Ari pushed open the kitchen door, holding her phone out. “I just got a text from Jill Peyton.”

Willow sighed with relief at the reprieve. “Uh oh,” she said. “The bride who put the cray in crazy.”

“No kidding,” Ari said, also still dressed in a beach cover-up, her amber-gold skin glistening from sunscreen. “Her last red-flag email was an order that only a specific pattern of Waterford crystal be on the tables and, of course, it’s only available from the manufacturer. In Ireland. With a six-month wait.”

“But you brilliantly found it all on Ebay, so whatever she wants, we shall solve. I hope.” Gussie was always so optimistic.

Ari waved the phone. “Unless I can find twins on Ebay, we’re out of luck. She wants us to provide a ‘matching’ ring bearer and flower girl.”

“What about her cousin’s kids?” Gussie asked. “We already found that four-year-old girl a persimmon and peach dress and matching boy’s tux that shipped to us last Wednesday and will be here tomorrow.”

“Jill had a falling out with her cousin, and now she needs replacement kids,” Ari said. “And we have exactly ten days to supply them, and they have to match, and they have to fit in the clothes that have been ordered.”

“She’s wack!” Gussie exclaimed. “We don’t supply the wedding party. The bride and groom do.”

“Ahem,” Willow fake-cleared. “Barefoot Brides? Kick off your shoes and let us plan.”

Ari nodded. “Okay, then what about Tessa and Chef Ian’s twins?” she suggested, referring to the nearly five-year-old tow-headed children of the resort’s chef.

“Great idea,” Willow agreed. “We can talk to Tessa to see if she’ll agree. But this reminds me of something I got from Nick today.”

“An eyeful?” Gussie teased. “You’ll have to tell Ari how he skinny-dipped for your viewing pleasure.”

“If she can decipher this.” Willow pulled out the note that Misty had written for Nick, letting them both read the brief and unintelligible message.

Leaving the F&B entirely up to you. RD & CP (go crazy, it’s on Steven), WP brunch, hd’s & recpt. dinner. Cake. DA brunch. All themed, whatever you and W work out. Will call you and be back soon w/ mf!! xo

“F&B is food and bev,” Gussie said. “RD is rehearsal dinner. CP?” She squished up her nose. “I don’t know, but let’s charge a lot if it’s on Steven.”

“Cocktail party?” Ari suggested.

“WP is wedding party brunch,” Gussie said. “And hd’s? Hot dogs? Happy dates? Huge dic—”

“Hors d’oeuvres,” Willow interjected. “Get your mind out of the gutter, will you?”

“Says the woman who’s seen his hammer twice.”

“Cake means cake,” Ari said.

“You’re a genius.” Gussie gave her an elbow. “And DA would be…”

“Day-after brunch.”

“But what’s this mean?” Willow tapped the page. “I’ll get back to you soon with mf?”

“My fiancé,” Ari said with a smug smile. “See? I do speak Misty.”

“Apparently, you do.” Willow stepped back to her vegetables, picking up the pepper, but seeing that cryptic note in her mind’s eye. “Why would she leave so many critical details and sparse directions to a guy she barely knows? It’s weird.”

“She’s a busy model,” Gussie said. “He’s here, and we’re here, she’s back in New York.”

“Really,” Ari agreed. “Don’t question a gift! The universe could be stingy next time.”

Willow rolled her eyes. “I’ve never seen any bride less interested in the planning of a wedding, not to mention one that has no mother, maid of honor, sister, or best friend to nudge her along. It’s like the only thing she got excited about was the dress.”

“I just said, she’s a model,” Gussie repeated, as though that explained it.

Willow wasn’t buying it. “Have you ever, in your career, met a bride willing to let a guy handle the
cake
? The reception menu? Anything more important than buying the groomsmen some gifts?”

Ari crossed her arms and leaned her hip against the counter. “I have to agree, it’s strange.”

“It’s like she doesn’t even care about this wedding,” Willow said. “It’s like an afterthought to her.” She sliced the pepper carefully.