“TELL ME ABOUT New York City,” Carlos said once they’d left the restaurant. “What do you do there?”
“You mean, when I’m not planning weddings?” She gave her shawl another tug. If she pulled any tighter, she’d choke herself with the silk, but at least the action gave her something to do with her hands. She’d tried leaving them down by her sides, but felt awkward swinging her fingers near the edge of his jacket, like she was waiting for him to snatch her hand in his grip. Larissa wondered if he felt the awkwardness, too, because he had his hand stuffed deep in his pockets.
“I work for an advertising agency,” she told him. “Media sales.”
“Sounds interesting.”
“You’re being polite.” Media sales definitely wasn’t interesting, at least not to her. “But it pays the bills a lot better than catering.”
“Ah, so you did plan events.”
“Waitress. Before that, a cashier at a florist. NYU didn’t pay for itself. I had to come up with the money somehow.”
“You’re not from New York originally, are you?”
He stated rather than asked. How they segued from her attending New York University to her hometown, Larissa wasn’t sure, although she could guess. Eight years of Big Apple living hadn’t completely killed her twang. “I moved there when I was eighteen.”
“Because you wanted to attend NYU.”
“Because it wasn’t Texas.” As she expected her answer earned her a look. “In a small town, your reputation is pretty much set at birth,” she told him. “I wanted to go some place where I could stretch my wings.” Not to mention finding a happily ever after was a heck of a lot easier in a city where you weren’t completely surrounded by taller, thinner and blonder. Wasn’t as if her grandmother cared if Larissa left; she was glad to be done with her.
“How about you?” Tired of talking about herself, she decided to turn the tables. Maybe in his answers, she’d gain insight into what made him so cynical. “What made you go into the hotel industry?”
“Born into it,” he replied. “The Chavez family has a long tradition in the hospitality industry. In fact, my grandfather built one of the first luxury hotels on the Baja peninsula.”
“Wow. I’m impressed. Explains how you and your cousin both got sent here.”
“You’d be hard-pressed to find a hotel in this country that doesn’t employ a Chavez.”
“So the name is like Smith.”
He chuckled, the warm sound slipping under her skin. “In a way. In addition to being large, we’re encouraged to learn the business from the ground up, even if that means working for our competition. My very first job was on the grounds crew for a rival property when I was fourteen years old. You’d be amazed what you can learn about the business weeding gardens. Watch your step.”
They reached a section where the walkway stepped down. In spite of the area being well lit, Carlos still reached over and took her elbow. Unlike this morning, when she had a bulky terrycloth robe to protect her, this time his hand touched bare skin.
This was getting ridiculous. There was absolutely no reason for one man to cause this much physical response. Yet here she was, her entire body tingling from the slightest of contact.
“Did your wife work in the hotel business, too?”
He stiffened at the question. You can’t stop poking that nerve, can you, Larissa? Part of her wondered if she broached the topic on purpose, to distract from the awareness stirring in her stomach.
“Mirabelle was a fashion model,” he replied. “We met when I was working a property in California.”
That distracted it, all right. Of course his wife had been a model. A man like Carlos, with his magnetic looks and natural virility, would attract only the best. “She must have been very beautiful.” Tall, long and leggy, no doubt.
“Yes, she was.”
“So you lived in California,” she said, shooing away the jealousy that immediately cropped up.
“For a while. Mirabelle had...health...issues so we moved back to Mexico City. I thought being close to her family would help her feel better.”
The stilted, practiced tone of his answer unnerved her. He was holding back. Larissa could sense the “but” hovering in the air, the same way she could feel the torment he fought to keep from his voice. All of a sudden, what had been awareness grew into a desire to wrap her arms around him and bring comfort.
She preferred the awareness.
They grew quiet after that. Now more aware of his proximity than ever, Larissa hugged her shawl close to her body. The flimsy material needed anchoring against the sea breeze anyway. She looked across the beach to the ocean which loomed black next to the silver land. Between the moon’s brightness and the walkway lights, she could make out the white of the foam left behind each time a wave crashed. “I wonder if the tide is going in or out,” she mused aloud.
“Out,” Carlos replied. “See the line?” He stopped and pointed to a strip of land where the sand shifted from silver to the color of gray cement. “That is the high tide mark. The sand above the water is freshly wet, which says the water has already been there and is starting to recede.”
“I’m impressed. Is knowing the high tide mark part of your job, as well?”
“More a sign that I walk this path too often.”
“And how often is that?” she asked.
“Twice a day at least. It’s the only way to see what’s going on...”
His voice drifted off at the end, along with his attention. Following his gaze, Larissa saw that he’d focused on a shadow up beach, right at the surf line.
“Is that what I think it is?” Looked an awful lot like two people reenacting the famous beach scene from From Here to Eternity.
A giggle pierced the night air. Moments later, the shadows became upright and ran toward the villas. Larissa tried hard not to giggle herself. “I see what you mean about forgetting your surroundings. Love and paradise.”
“Indeed.” From the tension in his voice, the scene made that raw nerve flare again. Had Carlos ever rolled in the surf? What hardened your heart? Had it been his wife? Her illness? So many questions danced around her head.
As it turned out, the shadows were staying in the VIP section. Before Larissa realized, she and Carlos had arrived at the beachside entrance to her villa. The pathway ended only a few feet beyond, disappearing into a stretch of silver that became the lip of the lagoon. Larissa could see how the shadows had gotten carried away. With nothing but palm trees and sand, it was easy to feel like the only two people on the planet.
“Thank you for walking me home,” she said.
“Thank you for staying so late to help me.”
She went to smile up at Carlos, only to be attacked by a case of nerves dancing around her stomach. Silly, but all of a sudden she felt like a teenager saying good-night on a date. A part of her knew she should turn and head through the door, while another, stronger part, remained rooted to the spot, capable of little more than swaying back and forth on the balls of her feet. “What time are you presenting your proposal to the Stevases?” she asked.
“Nine o’clock,” Carlos replied. “Why?”
“Would you mind if I joined you?”
“You have already given up part of your tri—”
“I don’t mind,” she interrupted. “I’m invested now. I want to see what Linda Stevas thinks of my ideas.” What she didn’t want to think about was how the suggestion popped into her head as soon as she realized saying good-night might be the last time she spent time with him this week. “So, do you mind?”
“Not at all. In fact, your presence would be very...welcome.”
The way he said the world, rolling it off his tongue, turned the nerves into butterflies. “Then, I’ll see you mañana?”
“Mañana,” Carlos replied. “I am looking forward to it.”
His gaze had dropped to her mouth, causing her breath to catch. Larissa rose on tiptoes, compelled by a need to lean closer, only to catch herself before the moment got out of hand. This wasn’t a date.
Spinning around, she unlocked her hotel door and slipped inside, clapping her hand over her mouth as soon as she closed the door behind her. What just happened? Had she really been waiting for a good-night kiss?
* * *
How long he stood on the walkway after Larissa went inside, Carlos wasn’t sure. Long enough for the roaring to leave his ears.
He watched as the light went on in her living room, and when her silhouette appeared in the window, he stepped closer to the building out of her line of sight. The move made him feel improper, as if he were behaving like a voyeur, instead of a man struck dumb by his reactions.
He’d almost kissed her. Staring into her eyes, feeling her body’s warmth, he came a breath away from tasting her mouth. Had he lived without a woman in his bed for so long, he could no longer bury his baser instincts? And after all his warning to Jorge about leaving her be. What, he wondered, would she have done if he had kissed her? There was a voice in his head telling him she’d been expecting him to. Wanted him to.
Above him, Larissa stood looking outward. Looking for him or staring at the ocean? The angle and shadows combined to hide her expression, so Carlos couldn’t tell. Nothing could hide her figure, though. Every contour, every gorgeous curve was on display for the world to see. How on earth could her fiancé find another woman more attractive? And that boy in her high school. Were they both blind? She was... Awareness flared anew. Gritting his teeth, he willed the arousal away. It was the moonlight. The moonlight and all her talk about weddings making him think impractically. Larissa Boyd was recovering from a broken heart. Worse, she was an incurable romantic. He would not take advantage of either. Tomorrow he would be back in control. After all, he wasn’t the same lovesick fool he was five years ago. This time he knew the difference between a moment of lust and something more.
For one thing, he couldn’t feel “more” even if he wanted to.
* * *
“Señor Chavez! Buenos dias!” In contrast to his small size, Paul Stevas’s voice boomed through the terrace lounge. Calling out was hardly necessary, as the room was nearly empty. This time of day, the guests who were interested in eating preferred the full-service restaurant or their rooms.
Paul had selected a table overlooking the ocean. Linda was there, too, her short brown hair clipped off her face. In her tank top and shorts, she looked more little girl than married woman. The woman sitting beside her, however... Thanks to her curves, Larissa’s navy striped shirt and white shorts looked far more alluring than they were meant to be. Carlos’s body reacted immediately, nearly stopping him in his tracks. Unwelcome, but not completely unexpected. He already decided last night that daylight would do little to dilute her appeal.
“My apologies for being late. The staff meeting ran over.” Doing his best to ignore the bare leg swinging in his peripheral vision, he put on his best smile. “I trust you haven’t been waiting long.”
“Only a few minutes,” Paul replied. “Larissa has been sharing some of her ideas with us.”
“Is that so?” he asked, taking a seat across from her. Took some effort, but he managed not to drop his eyes to her lips.
Color seeped into her cheeks nonetheless. “I was telling them how we thought, since this was an anniversary celebration and not an actual wedding, they might prefer something untraditional,” she told him.
He sat and listened while she described La Joya’s version of the Mayan wedding ceremony. A beachside ceremony that involved offerings to the four points of the compass. He’d always considered the ritual more gimmick than following true culture, but Larissa wove the details into a magical ceremony of love and commitment even the most traditional of shamans would love. No wonder the Steinbergs couldn’t wait to sign a contract. Her enthusiasm was infectious. There was no bitterness, no reluctance in her voice to give away the fact that many of her suggestions came from her own ceremony. His admiration grew.
“What do you mean purify?” Paul asked, interrupting the spell. “Do you mean with a smoke?”
“More like incense,” he supplied. “The shaman will add copal to the altar fire. It emits an aroma that smells very similar to frankincense. Usually he waves the smoke around the participants before allowing them to approach. That way you are ‘presentable’ to the gods.” He didn’t go into the rest of the ceremony. It largely consisted of mystical elements best left experienced. In a true Mayan ceremony, the shaman would also make a ritual sacrifice. Thankfully, the mystic La Joya used was modern and wise enough to substitute a bloodless sacrifice instead.
“Once the shaman finishes the ceremony, he’ll declare you officially committed to one another and your guests will commemorate the moment by showering you with flower petals,” Larissa finished for him. “What do you think?”
The young couple exchanged a look.
“Everything sounds wonderful,” Linda said. “Beautiful.”
“But?”
“It’s the incense,” Paul said. “I get the point of the whole purification ceremony, but we don’t want any smoke.”
“None at all?” There was no mistaking the disappointment in Larissa’s voice. Modern or not, all shaman insisted on purification rituals. Vetoing the incense meant vetoing her entire proposal. To his surprise, Carlos found himself disappointed on Larissa’s behalf. Did the Stevases not realize how hard she worked on this proposal? Hours of thought and effort down the drain. He arched a brow at his surrogate coordinator. See? Never happy.
“It’s not that we don’t like the idea,” Linda said, at least having the good sense to sound apologetic. “I loved everything else.”
“But Linda’s lungs can’t handle being around smoke. She’ll end up coughing through the whole ceremony, and what kind of memory is that? This is supposed to be special.”
Was the kid getting choked up? His eyes had a sheen to them.
Linda reached over and squeezed her husband’s wrist. “It will be special,” she said in a quiet voice. “But smokeless would be better.”
“No problem,” Larissa said before he could. “It’s possible the shaman could purify the altar beforehand. Or...” She paused. “We can always do the ceremony without the shaman. Kind of a merger of traditional and nontraditional elements.” Without missing a beat, she launched into a substitute idea. Carlos was doubly impressed. Smart and sexy. A dangerous combination. Her fiancé was a fool.
Without meaning to, his attention wandered to Larissa’s legs. Her thighs were pale and smooth, like her shoulders last night. Linda had pale skin, too—most of the new arrivals did—but Larissa’s skin had a creaminess to it that made it stand out amid all the bronze and copper. Her skin, her style of dress, her curves...everything about her stood out.
His late wife had been so breathtakingly beautiful. Perfect-looking, some said. Certainly, he thought so first time he laid eyes on her. Larissa Boyd wasn’t nearly as flawless, but she had a radiance about her that pulled you in nonetheless. There was steel in there, too. Mirabelle had been so fragile, so unable to deal with a world that wasn’t forever bright and shiny. Something told Carlos that Larissa Boyd created her own bright and shiny.
Was that the reason she held such appeal? Because she was so different from Mirabelle?
“And I’m sure the resort boutique can help you find a dress.”
She was looking to him for a response. “Si,” he replied, after clearing his throat. “Señora Pedron, our shop manager, works closely with the boutiques in town. She will help you find whatever you need.”
“I don’t need anything super fancy,” Linda said, “but I would like to wear something a little dressier than a cotton sundress. I would have packed more appropriately if someone told me about the ceremony in advance.” She gave Paul a playful nudge, which he returned.
“I told you, I wanted to surprise you. Get whatever dress you want. Far as I’m concerned, you’d look gorgeous in a flour sack.”
Naturally his answer made Linda beam. Poor besotted fool. Carlos mentally added up the costs. Paul Stevas’s surprise was going cost a small fortune. With every expense agreed to while wearing a smile.
It was that damn smile that tried Carlos’s nerves. His insipid adoring look cut too close to home. He’d worn a similar look those first months of his marriage, too. So willing to do anything to keep a smile on his wife’s face. Too lost in his romantic haze to realize the impossibility of his job.
A few feet away, Larissa watched their banter with a rapture usually reserved for romantic movies. Carlos could only imagine the smile that would grace her face if he treated her to even a tiny slice of the gestures he bestowed on Mirabelle.
But then, a woman like Larissa would also expect feelings to go along with the gestures, wouldn’t she? Feelings he couldn’t give even in the shortest of terms. Mirabelle, with all her need, killed that possibility.
Still...he thought, his gaze sliding back to her legs. What he wouldn’t do to feel the curve of her calf beneath his palm.
His view disappeared, destroyed by the recrossing of legs in the opposite direction. “That’s every detail I can think of,” he heard Larissa say. “You’re going to have a gorgeous recommitment ceremony.”
“I’m sure we will,” Paul said, kissing Linda again. “Thank you so much for all your help.”
“I still can’t believe I’m actually going to have my dream wedding. I probably won’t sleep between now and Friday night.”
“You better. I don’t want you getting sick before we’ve said ‘I do’ again.” Paul’s comment earned him an eye roll. Such a sugary and adoring exchange, Carlos feared he might choke from the sweetness. To think he’d once sounded that way himself. Sipping his coffee, he offered silent thanks for intense Mexican brewing habits. The bitterness made for good balance. Like reality to fantasy.
“I’ll have the catering office type up the notes and make sure a copy is left for you at the front desk,” he told the Stevases. “If there are any questions or changes, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Should we call your office directly?” Paul asked. He’d directed his question at Larissa.
“I—uh—don’t actually work here at the resort,” Larissa replied, color creeping into her cheeks.
“You don’t?” Linda’s eyes were wider than usual. “You’re certainly familiar with the services.”
“Well, that’s because—”
“Señorita Boyd is a good friend,” Carlos said, jumping in. “The resort is between wedding coordinators at the moment, and she, being familiar with our services, graciously agreed to step in and help with your event.”
“Ahhh.” The newlyweds exchanged another look, and this time the knowing glance was easily decipherable. They mistook “friend” for something else.
“Then we appreciate your help even more,” Linda told her.
“My pleasure,” Larissa told her, shooting him a look of her own. She, too, had read what the Stevases were thinking. “If it’s one thing I love, it’s weddings, or pseudo-weddings in this case. I’m absolutely positive you’re going to love what we’ve planned.”
“You’re coming to the ceremony right?”
“I make a point of stopping by every ceremony to make sure arrangements are to guests’ liking,” he told her.
“Yes, but will you and Larissa stay?”
She was asking if they would attend as a couple.
“I hadn’t...” Larissa turned to him, and he shrugged, letting her know the decision was up to her. The woman had no reason to attend. This was her vacation; the Stevases were strangers. Curiously, his pulse quickened while he waited her response.
“Please,” Linda said, grabbing Larissa’s hand. “We’ve only a few family members coming in for the ceremony, and you’ve done so much to create this wonderful memory. It wouldn’t feel right not having you there.”
“Well, if it means so much to you—”
“Oh, it does! Thank you so much.” Eyes filling with emotion, the young woman leapt from her chair and wrapped her arms around Larissa’s neck. “For everything.”
“Yes,” Paul agreed. “You have no idea.” His eyes were damp, too. Clearly they were both prone to emotion as well as enamored with each other.
“Looks like I’ll be attending a wedding this week after all,” Larissa remarked once Paul and Linda departed. “Don’t worry, I won’t hold you to standing by my side.”
The image of the two of them dancing on the beach flashed into his head. On their way to the elevator, Paul and Linda walked as though glued from shoulder to thigh. The thought of being glued in similar fashion while swaying to music sent his baser instincts into overdrive.
“You don’t have to attend,” he said, reaching for his coffee. “I could make an excuse. Tell them you aren’t feeling well.”
“No, I’d like to attend,” she replied. “They seem like a sweet couple. They think we’re dating, you know.”
The remark caused him to cough into his coffee. “I assure you, that wasn’t my intent when I first spoke. I was simply trying to avoid them knowing you were a guest.”
“Why?”
The truth? He recognized Larissa’s discomfort and felt compelled to rush in and save her embarrassment. There was no thought involved. “People expect more from a five-star resort than a guest covering a job in exchange for a discount on her bill,” he replied. Perhaps not the entire answer, but truthful enough.
“I can see why you wouldn’t want word to get out. Guests would crawl out of the woodwork looking for favors.”
“Precisely.” The shadow he thought he saw crossing her features had to be his imagination. “We are not in a position to be reducing bills left and right.” No hotel was, and certainly not one who had their accounts mismanaged.
“However, I did not mean to make you feel uncomfortable,” he added. “If you’d like, I will talk with them, and explain we are not together.”
“You don’t have to explain on my account. I mean—” she looked down “—it’s only for one evening, and it’s not like I’ll see them again afterward. Besides, the two of them are so wrapped up in one another, I doubt they would remember the explanation anyway.”
“Probably not.” He ignored the surge that overtook him when Larissa said not to bother. Whether the Stevases’ thought the two of them together was moot. They weren’t. “Well, as you said, it is only for one evening.”
“And there is no rule that says we have to spend the event together, because of a misconception, right?”
Was that expectancy in her voice? Carlos couldn’t be sure, but all of a sudden her eyes reminded him of last night. So wide and blue. Kissing her would be a mistake. A very sweet-tasting mistake.
“Si,” he murmured. “There is not.”
“Great.” Larissa practically knocked the chair over jumping to her feet. Not her most graceful of moves, but then, she’d been stumbling mentally and physically the entire trip. “It looks like we’re done here, so if you don’t mind, seeing how I am a guest, I’m going to head back to my room.”
“So quickly?” She couldn’t blame him for being confused by her behavior. One moment, she’s looking him in the eye, the next she was rushing to escape.
“There’s a snorkeling trip to the ecopark leaving soon. If I hurry, I can join.”
“I thought you didn’t want to leave your lounge chair?”
“I wasn’t, but snorkeling was on my original itinerary, and I realized last night there was no reason for me not to go through with my plans. I originally planned to go on Friday, but now that I’ve agreed to go to the recommitment ceremony, I need to pick a different day, so why not today?”
She smiled, hoping her smile didn’t look nervous. Right before answering, Carlos’s eyes had dropped to her mouth. While only a couple seconds ticked by, they’d lingered long enough to send some very disturbing thoughts into her head. First and foremost, the very clear realization that she wanted Carlos to kiss her, maybe more than she wanted him to last night.
Much as she hated to admit it, in slightly over twenty-four hours, she’d managed to develop a very serious fixation on the man. Tom, the man she should be thinking about, was barely a blip on the radar. She needed space and fresh air to clear her head.
If her departure disappointed Carlos, you couldn’t tell from his expression. His eyes were as shuttered as always. “I won’t keep you then. Enjoy your afternoon.”
“Thanks, I will.”
What did you think he’d say? Stay? The skin on the back of her neck prickled as she rushed her way to the elevator. If he was watching her departure, it was only because she acted so skittish. Anything more was kidding herself. Good thing she did decide to go snorkeling. A nice cool plunge in the tide pools was definitely what she needed to get a grip.
The launch back to her room took forever. Laid-back Mexican time did not work when you needed to stay distracted. Sitting in her seat only gave her more time to think. What did it say about her that she could be so drawn to a stranger on her honeymoon? Maybe she was as superficial as Tom said. She certainly hadn’t given him a second thought while talking wedding details with Linda. If anything, she’d been excited that she would get to see her wedding ceremony take place after all. She and Carlos.
And with that thought the can of worms she’d fought so hard last night to ignore, ripped open to reveal the ugly truth: She didn’t miss Tom at all. And if she didn’t miss him, then he wasn’t really her Prince Charming. She only thought he was because he wanted her, and being wanted was such a nice feeling.
Was that the reason she felt so attracted to Carlos? Because he looked at her with desire? That was so not a good reason.