“JUST FOR A little while. A drink.”
Larissa could feel her cheeks getting hotter by the second. She was handling this all wrong. After this morning’s “moment” in the bathroom, he probably thought she was hitting on him. His tense expression said as much.
“It would give me the chance to pay you back for all your kindness the past twenty-four hours,” she continued, hoping the reason was enough to erase any hint of a come-on. She didn’t know why his opinion mattered so much to her, but it did. This morning’s tarantula incident clearly touched a nerve, and she hated being the one responsible for bringing up bad memories. She’d spent a good chunk of the afternoon dwelling on the horrible impression she’d made.
When she wasn’t flashing upon the way his hands felt gripping her elbows, that is.
Why that moment caused such an intense wave of attraction to begin with was a mystery. After a long soak, she decided to blame a hazardous combination of exhaustion, alcohol and adrenaline. Along with a dose of old-fashioned female appreciation. He was a handsome man, after all.
“There is no need to pay me back for anything,” Carlos said. Larissa blamed the tightness she heard in his voice on her imagination. “I was only doing my job.”
“I disagree. You went above and beyond, and I’d like to say thank you. Please.” She gestured to the empty seat across from her. “Word on the street says the kitchen has an abundance of chicken.”
“Well...”
She could hear him weighing the option in his head. “Seeing as I do own thirty percent of the chicken....”
“You mean forty percent, don’t you?” she corrected. “Don’t forget, I earned an additional ten percent thanks to Hairy the Tarantula.”
“Of course, forty percent. How could I forget?” His comment held a hint of humor, however, and he took a seat. Instantly, a waiter appeared with a place setting.
“Wow, I didn’t even see him watching the table,” Larissa noted.
“You aren’t supposed to. We train our staff to be as discreet as possible.”
“So as not to disturb the moment.”
“Precisely. Our guests like their privacy. Although—” he paused while the waiter poured a glass of water “—there are moments when our staff has been too good at their job.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Put it this way. While my staff members might be discreet, our guests don’t always follow the same rules.”
Larissa got the picture. “I suppose love and paradise will cause people to get carried away.”
“Yes, they will,” he muttered into his glass.
Great, she’d gone and said the wrong thing again. Quickly, she rushed on, hoping to erase whatever bad thoughts she’d churned up in his mind. “Luckily, your staff can relax where I’m concerned. There are absolutely no indiscretions on my agenda.”
A hint of a smile played on his lips. “Back to practicing low-maintenance, are we?”
“Hey, it wasn’t my fault a man-eating spider decided to vacation in my tub.”
The waiter reappeared with their appetizers. “I’ve often heard Americans call ceviche the Mexican sushi. Interesting that you picked so many traditional Yucatán dishes for your reception,” Carlos remarked as he set down the plates of spiced fish. “Most of our American guests insist on American staples for their big day.”
“American food didn’t go with my destination theme. I figured why travel all this way and not completely embrace the culture? Consistency makes for a far more memorable event.”
“You sound like an expert.”
“Nah, just something I learned from my grandmother. She was a seamstress, and always telling brides ‘you don’t want one bridesmaid sticking out like a sore thumb and ruining the photo.’ I figured the same advice applies to the rest of the wedding.”
“Interesting logic.”
“Thank you.” Larissa decided to accept his remark as a compliment, whether he meant it as such or not.
Almost twelve hours since she saw him last, and, with the exception of his five-o’clock shadow, he looked as darkly perfect as he did this morning. The wear and tear of the day enriched his appearance. The wrinkles in his suit added depth; the stubble gave him a feral edge.
He ate with the same predatory grace that dominated all his movements. The prongs of his fork slipped neatly between his teeth, disappearing as his lips sealed shut, only to slip free a moment later. Larissa had never paid much attention to how a man ate before, but now she found herself following every bite.
“Is something wrong?” he asked suddenly. “You’ve barely touched your appetizer. Don’t tell me after all your effort, you don’t like the dish?”
“The fish is delicious. I—” I was too busy staring at your mouth to eat. She speared a piece of fish with her fork. “I was thinking how nice it is to have someone to talk with. Privacy is great, but when you’re by yourself, things can get a little dull. Let’s face it, there’s only so much introspection a woman can do.” Not that she’d done much at all yet.
Quiet settled between them, as they chewed their food. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?” Carlos asked after a moment.
You had to commend him for politeness. Most people would have gone ahead and asked, the question was so obvious. “You want to know what I’m doing here by myself in the first place.”
“Far be it for me to downgrade my own resort, but La Joya is a couples getaway. If you wanted to spend time in the sun, there are dozens of quality Mexican resorts that cater to single guests. Why come here, especially considering you and your fiancé planned...?” He let the question drift away.
“You mean, why pour salt in the wounds by showing up at the same resort where I planned to be married?”
“Exactly.”
Where did she start? Setting down her fork, Larissa folded her hands in front of her and tried to put her thoughts in order. Since she’d given the same speech to Delilah and Chloe, the answer should have come easily, but her mind didn’t seem to be working the same way today as it had been the past six weeks. “Six weeks ago, I would have said the same thing. Why come here. In fact, I had my hand on the phone the next day, planning to cancel everything. Plane tickets and reservations included.”
“What made you change your mind?”
“Michael D’Allesio.”
“Who?”
Goodness, but she hadn’t said that name in almost nine long years. “He was a boy I knew in high school.” Pimply-faced Mike D’Allesio who played trumpet in the band and worked Saturdays at the ice cream shop. He’d always smiled at her when she went to his window to order. “I asked him to go to the prom, and he said yes, only to take Corinne Brown instead.”
“He canceled?”
Larissa shot him a look. Clearly he’d never been an unpopular chubby girl. “More like never followed through.”
“You mean, he stood you up?” A foreign concept to someone like him, who lived and breathed etiquette.
“Turns out he only said yes because I put him on the spot and he didn’t know how to say no.”
“So did you go by yourself?”
“No. I sat home and stuffed my face full of cream cheese brownies while wearing my prom dress.” She could still see herself, mascara streaking her face, crumbs spilling onto her lap. Such a pathetic scene. The memory left her sick to her stomach.
“I’m sorry.”
“It was eight years ago,” she said, shrugging. “Anyway, I had the telephone in my hand to cancel this trip when I saw the picture of my wedding gown I stuck on my mirror and I said, ‘screw it.’ I wasn’t sitting home again. At least here I can sit around and stare at palm trees
“Plus I had nonrefundable airline tickets,” she added, seeking to lighten the moment. There was only so much pathos a woman could take.
Across the table, Carlos choked on his drink.
“What?” she asked.
“The part about the airline ticket. Jorge suggested that very same reason this morning.”
“You and he were talking about me?”
“I talk about a lot of my guests.”
“Oh.” She felt a tiny thrill anyway. “Jorge...That’s the man who arrived with you this morning, right?”
Carlos nodded. “My cousin.”
“I wondered when I heard you two had the same last name. I figured you were either related or Chavez is the Mexican version of Smith.”
“We came here together about six weeks ago, shortly after the general manager left.”
“I thought you lost your wedding coordinator.”
“We lost both,” he said in a sharp tone. “They ran off together.”
“Oh, my gosh, you’re kidding. My friend Delilah just married our boss. They fell in love on a business trip.”
“I doubt your friend’s relationship and this one are the quite same. Unless your boss also left a wife and an infant son behind.”
Oh. “I didn’t realize. The poor woman.” Larissa’s heart went out to her. “And here I thought Tom blindsided me.”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. That was inconsiderate of me.”
“No, it’s okay.” At least now, she understood his comments from this morning. “You were right, when you said it’s better I found out before the wedding.
“Funny thing is, I didn’t stop to think there might have been a wife when you said they ran off. I assumed they were soul mates.”
“More like partners in crime,” he said, signaling for the waiter.
“Or both.”
“You’re joking.”
“Look, I’m not saying they were right or even that they’re nice people, but love is unpredictable. The heart wants what the heart wants.”
“You’re far more generous than I am. Considering your own story, I would have thought you’d be far more bitter.”
The waiter arrived to clear their plates. Grateful for the interruption, Larissa watched silently as a copper hand lifted away her half-eaten plate. Carlos’s comment tapped a can of worms she wasn’t ready to deal with yet, including the fact she had yet to feel any real heartache over Tom’s leaving.
“What’s done is done, right?” she said, when it was once again the two of them. It was the best answer she could muster at the moment. Everything else required deeper explanation, such as accepting that maybe Tom hadn’t been the man of her dreams after all. “We can’t go back and change the past.”
“Unfortunately, we cannot.”
Sharpness coated his words, reminding her, too late, that he’d lost his wife. Now it was Larissa’s turn to regret her words. She opened her mouth to apologize, only to be stopped by a couple rushing the table.
“We’re sorry to interrupt your dinner, Señor Chavez,” the man said.
“It’s my fault. Paul told me about the vow renewal and I was so excited, I had to say thank you in person.”
Carlos introduced them as Paul and Linda Stevas, guests at the resort. “Señor and Señora Stevas want to host a vow renewal ceremony at the end of the week to celebrate their anniversary.”
“Congratulations,” Larissa said.
Looking at them, she couldn’t believe they were old enough to get married, let alone renew their vows. The woman was so waifish and thin, she belonged on a runway. Both her legs together wouldn’t make one of Larissa’s thighs. Her eyes, which along her lips, took up most of her face, glowed with enthusiasm.
“Thank you,” she replied. “I can’t wait to hear Señor Chavez’s ideas. Paul tells me they’re amazing.”
“No, I said I’m sure they will be amazing,” Paul corrected. “I mean, look around. How can they not, right?”
“Like I told your husband this afternoon, we’ll do everything in our power to make sure your anniversary is everything you wish it to be.”
Based on the young woman’s squeal, neither she nor her husband noticed that Carlos’s smooth-as-silk answer lacked enthusiasm. She clapped her hands together. “You have no idea how awesome this is, Señor Chavez. It’s, like, a dream come true. I mean, it is a dream come true.”
“I told you she would be thrilled.”
“I’m glad you’re both happy,” Carlos replied. “We want nothing less here.”
“Oh, trust me, we are beyond happy,” she assured him. “I don’t know if Paul told you, but we didn’t have a real wedding...”
“Linda, baby, I don’t think we need to go into all that now. We’re keeping Señor Chavez from his dinner.”
The young woman was so pale, her blush looked crimson in comparison to the rest of her. “When I get excited, I tend to babble.”
“I do the same thing,” Larissa told her. “No worries. And your husband’s right. There’s no way you can go wrong with any event you hold here. Whatever you do, make sure you book a private moonlight cruise on the lagoon. The two of you alone under the stars, the smell of mango in the air. It’d be great way to end your trip. Like a repeat wedding night.”
Linda blushed again. “That does sound wonderful.”
“Can we do that?” Paul asked, looking to Carlos.
“I don’t think that will be a problem,” Carlos replied.
The pair grinned, then Paul slipped his arm around Linda’s shoulders. “Come on, baby. We’ve taken up enough of Señor Chavez’s time. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”
“They’re so sweet,” Larissa said after they’d walked away. “Sounds like they’re really excited to renew their vows.”
“Hmm.”
“Is there a problem?” So far as she could see, Paul and Linda were dream guests, eager to spend money and enjoy everything the hotel had to offer. Plus, she did find it sweet the guy wanted to give his wife a fancy anniversary celebration.
“Excuse me. I’m sorry to interrupt again.” Paul suddenly appeared back at their table. “But that midnight cruise thing you suggested. Pull out all the stops. I want to make it a night Linda won’t forget.”
“Of course,” Carlos replied. “We wouldn’t give you anything less.”
“Okay,” she said, once Paul was out of reach. “He just became doubly sweet. Doing all this to make his wife happy.”
“I only hope he finds everything worth the trouble.”
“Why wouldn’t he? You saw his wife’s face. She’s thrilled.”
“Tonight. What about tomorrow? Or the week after the ceremony? And if he has to go to this much bother for their first anniversary, what will he have to do for the second to make sure the smile stays on her face?”
“Wow, could you be any more cynical? The two of them obviously eloped, and now the guy wants to indulge his wife. What’s wrong with that? You were married. Didn’t you oblige your wife now and then?”
“Now and then,” he replied.
“See? I rest my case.”
“So you do.” An odd look crossed his face and Larissa couldn’t help but wonder if his concession was more to avoid an argument than because of any point she might have made. There’d been a definite edge to his voice that suggested as much.
“I’m sorry,” he continued. “I’m afraid I’m not cut out to be an event coordinator. I was brought here to handle the financial issues, not plan weddings.”
There was more to his outburst than being uncomfortable with the job, Larissa was certain of that. She was beginning to think that, for some reason, he had a deep dislike for weddings in general. Rather than press the issue, however, she allowed him his excuse.
“Don’t you have a catering manager who can handle these kinds of events for you?”
“You saw what kind of mistakes Maria left us to deal with. My catering manager is already overcommitted handling the events on the books. Asking him to plan a last-minute ceremony in addition to everything else he’s doing might cause him to quit. Then where would I be? I will take care of planning Paul’s and Linda’s event myself.”
Larissa nodded at the manila folder that lay by his bread dish. “So is that the work you’re bringing home? Their ceremony?”
“It is. I plan to write their proposal after supper.”
“What do you have planned?” Like Linda, Larissa found herself eager to hear his ideas. Probably not for the same reasons, but eager nonetheless.
“Does that include the moonlight cruise you sold them on a second ago?” Carlos asked.
“Yes.”
Her request had to wait, because the waiter chose that moment to bring out the next appetizer. Two bowls filled with a pale green broth. “Sopa de lima,” he announced. Larissa stirred the mixture with her spoon, letting the citrus smell wash over her. “Tom thought all these details were a waste of money, too.”
“I didn’t say I thought it a waste of money.”
“But you don’t think much of all the planning, either. And don’t say that’s not true,” she said, shaking her spoon, “because it’s obvious you don’t.”
She could tell he was choosing his argument by the way he hesitated. “So many people...they spend all this time and effort creating the perfect memory, and for what? So they can pick apart the event after the fact, and focus on the mistakes? Every day, my managers bring me complaints. The food wasn’t what they expected. The temperature in the room was set incorrectly. The service wasn’t discreet enough. The service was too discreet. The list is endless.
“Makes me wonder why people even bother,” he added, stabbing at his bowl with his spoon. “Especially when no matter what you do, you can’t make them happy.”
Larissa refrained from comment. The acerbity accompanying his last comment suggested their conversation had crossed from theoretical to personal. Very personal, in fact. She thought of their other encounters. His exaggerated concern this morning, his shuttered expression. Didn’t take a detective to realize her host carried some dark, heavy baggage.
Curiosity pushed her to find out what, but she held back. This vacation was about focusing on her own issues, not distracting herself with someone else’s. No matter how much someone else’s issues cried for her attention.
“Unfortunately for you, Paul and Linda are bothering,” she said, pointing out the obvious instead. “And from the sounds of things, Paul’s looking for spectacular.”
“Unfortunately, yes, he is, and if you have any spectacular suggestions, I am more than willing to hear them.”
“I am the last person to ask for suggestions. Chloe and Delilah said I was a regular Bridezilla when it came to planning mine.”
“Pardon?”
“You know, a wedding monster.” One of those very people he’d just described.
For the first time since their conversation began, a small smile tugged at his mouth. “I know,” he said, sipping his soup. “I read your proposal.”
If she weren’t so distracted by the way his lips covered the spoon, Larissa would have been insulted. Damn, but he turned eating sexy. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting perfection.” She’d given the same argument to Tom and her friends dozens of times.
The smile tugged wider. “If you say so.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to understand.” No one else did. Her ex certainly hadn’t.
She turned to stare at the beach. The long silver-white path that stretched to the horizon. “Did you ever dream of something your whole life only to have it suddenly come true?” she asked. “When that moment does finally come, you want to create this perfect sliver of time. A memory that stands up to all the dreams and wishes. Because you only get one shot at making fantasy reality. If you don’t go all out, you’ll spend the rest of your life replaying the memory and wishing you’d had.”
Her cheeks grew warm realizing how much she’d rambled on. “Anyway,” she said, turning back, “that’s why people get crazy about their weddings.”
Across the table, Carlos was studying her with an indistinguishable expression, his brown eyes sharper than she’d ever seen them. “Go ahead and tell me I’m over the top,” she said, tugging her shawl over her exposed shoulders. After all, Tom said that and worse when they broke up. Over the top, superficial, caught up in the unimportant. The can of worms she didn’t want to open—the one in which Tom might have a point—threatened to raise its lid again.
Eyes yet to leave her, Carlos leaned back in his chair. His long fingers tapped at the file on the table. “So what would you do if you were planning the Stevases’ ceremony?”
“Well, to begin with I would...” She stopped when she caught him looking down at the file. “Are you trying to pick my brain for ideas?”
“I merely asked a hypothetical question.”
Hypothetical, her foot. “You want me to help you plan the Stevases’ recommitment ceremony, don’t you?”
“You have to admit, you do have a knack for this sort of thing. First, the Steinbergs, then the Stevases with the moonlight cruise.”
“A few suggestions does not a knack make.” Although she had to give him credit. At least he didn’t try and pretend he wasn’t looking for input. “Isn’t there a rule about making guests work?”
“A few suggestions does not work make,” he replied.
Damn him, for throwing her own retort back in her face.
“Plus,” he added “you’ve already done more work since your arrival than much of my staff.”
His tone turned gentle. “I listened to you describe our cruise to the Stevases. You painted exactly the kind of picture they needed to hear. They’re looking for magic, and frankly, when it comes to creating magic, I’m...” He paused to study the orchid in the center of the table. “Empty.”
“Empty,” Larissa repeated. An odd choice of words. It implied that once upon a time he’d had magic. The notion he lost a part of himself made her heart ache.
“All I ask is that you give me a few ideas over dinner. Perhaps things you would have done yourself.”
“You want to use my defunct wedding ideas?”
“I want to hear your suggestions. Please. I would consider it a great favor.”
Aw, damn, did he have to lean forward so that the candlelight made his eyes sparkle? “What’s in it for me?” she asked him.
“Pardon?”
If he was going to ask her to use her wedding to inspire someone else’s happiness, she should at least get something out the arrangement. “Seems to me there should be some kind of compensation. Especially since I’m stuck paying for sixty percent of my own failed wedding.” The mention of which should be causing more heartache than it was. She truly didn’t seem to be missing Tom at all. Again, she slammed the worm can.
Carlos shook his head. “You are asking for me to eat more of the cost.”
“Only fair, isn’t it?”
He didn’t answer. Probably because he had no argument. The business world survived on an unwritten quid pro quo of favors. Any good business man would realize that fact. Larissa sipped her sparkling water, and waited for his response.
“Very well,” he said, after a moment. “I will erase the wedding charges from your bill.”
“Great.” Finally, something on this trip was going her way.
“But,” he said, tilting his glass in her direction a warning if ever Larissa saw one, “any new expenses you wring up are completely non-negotiable.”
“Fair enough.” Getting a tan didn’t cost much. What mattered was writing off the past.
She moved her soup to her left and learned forward. “Now, what do you say, we get to work.”
* * *
“Then, we wrap up everything that evening by sending them on the moonlight dinner cruise I told them about. What do you think?”
“I will have to check on cruise availability,” Carlos said, “but other than that, I’d say it sounds terrific. You’re a natural at this.”
The compliment warmed Larissa more than it should. “Making sure I earn my percentage is all.”
“You have and then some. Are you sure you haven’t planned events before?”
“Just my wedding,” Larissa replied. “Told you, I did a lot of research.” Not to mention that, when you spend most of your life fantasizing about something, planning became second nature.
During dinner, Carlos had shifted his chair to the side of the table so they could share the paperwork. He’d shed his jacket, as well.
You’d think the rolled-up sleeves would soften the edge she found so attractive earlier, but a relaxed Carlos was even more alluring. She couldn’t blame alcohol or sleep deprivation this time, either. Beneath the table, his knee rested a hair’s breadth from hers. Every shift of his body sent the seam of his slacks brushing across her skin. Good thing she had a shawl. Clutching it kept her from breakout in goose bumps.
“Well, your research has paid off for me three times this week,” he said, stealing a sip of water. “I don’t suppose you want to stay and replace Maria?”
“Why not? I’ll chuck my life in New York and move into the Presidential Villa.” Talk about the ultimate running away from your troubles. She smirked, waiting for his comeback to her pretend acceptance. What she got was a return grin that made her stomach somersault.
A soft cough broke the conversation. Their waiter hovered by Carlos’s elbow, his face a combination of nerves and expectancy. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Señor Chavez, but the rest of the staff wants to know if they could break down the rest of the room.”
To her surprise, she and Carlos were the only two people left in the restaurant, the other tables long vacant. So engrossed was she in planning the Stevases’ ceremony, she didn’t notice the diners coming and going.
“Of course they can, Miguel,” Carlos replied. “We’ll be out of their way shortly.”
“I didn’t realize we were keeping your staff from doing their jobs,” she said after the server disappeared. “Good thing I decided against having a third piece of cake or they’d still be waiting.”
“Would you like—” He had his hand half up, ready to flag Miguel, when she grabbed his forearm.
“Thanks, but I’ve already had two pieces too many. As it is, I’ll have to starve myself tomorrow to make up for the calories.”
“Ah, but surely you’ve heard calories don’t count in paradise.”
“Tell that to my hips.”
“Your hips have nothing to complain about.” Her flush must have made him realize how his compliment sounded because she caught a tinge of pink creeping across his cheekbones. His gaze swept downward, to his forearm where her hand continued to rest. She knew she should move, but she couldn’t. Like when you touch a hot stove and are unable to pull back quickly despite the sizzle.
Finally, he broke contact with her, sliding his arm free so he could straighten the paperwork. “Thank you again for all your assistance.”
“Um, my pleasure.” Larissa grabbed her water, hoping to hide her embarrassment. “What else was I going to do tonight? Take myself for a moonlit stroll?”
What Larissa didn’t want to tell him was how much she enjoyed his company. Once you got past the stiffness, she discovered he had a very easy way about him. They worked surprisingly well together, too. Carlos was genuinely open to her suggestions, limiting his challenges to budgets and logistics. He contributed a few ideas of his own as well, which surprised her. Not that he had ideas, but the kind of ideas he put forth. For a man who claimed to be “empty” he had a knack for suggesting small, romantic gestures to complement her big picture ideas. More than once, Larissa wondered if his suggestions came from professional or personal experience. Did he, for example, leave orchids on his wife’s pillow? If so she’d been a lucky woman, Larissa decided, with a pang in her stomach.
“I’m afraid you may have to take that stroll anyway,” Carlos told her. He pointed to his watch. “The last launch departed ten minutes ago.”
“It did?” She’d truly lost track of time. “And here I swore tonight I’d get a better night’s sleep.”
“Fortunately, you’re on vacation. Going to bed late is part of the bargain.”
“You mean like calories not counting?”
“Exactly.” Slipping the papers into their file, he rose to his feet. “I’ll walk you back to your villa.”
“There’s no need. I’m sure I’ll be perfectly safe.” Wasn’t as though she was wandering some anonymous street in Mexico. “If not, I’ve got pepper spray in my bag.”
“I won’t ask how you got a weapon through customs,” he said with a chuckle. “But I do insist on walking you. Even in the safest of resorts, unexpected accidents can occur.
“Besides,” he added, the words coming out low and close to her ear. “It would be rude of me to let you travel unescorted.”
Heaven forbid, Larissa thought, tugging at her shawl. With the way his voice sent shivers traveling down her spine, she’d rather the rudeness.