He reached out his hand and caressed her cheek, the smooth skin delicate under his fingertips. “I would do that and more.”
Her jaw loosened a little. “Why?”
Because he liked her and already had a soft spot for her in his heart…the only thing of his soft around her lately, that was for sure. “Strays and orphans, remember?”
She turned her face so that her lips brushed his palm. “I’m your stray this week.” The kiss was light, barely air, and kicked him hard in the chest.
He smiled. “Prettiest one ever. And, hey, I’ll order dinner from Junonia while I’m over there, and we can eat out here tonight. Just the two of us.”
“That sounds perfect,” she said. “No lying to Mimosa High grads or hiding from my former fiancé.”
He bent over and kissed her on top of the head. “Save me some wine.”
“No promises.”
Still smiling, he walked the distance from the villa to the main building of the resort without even glancing at the sunset over the gulf to his right. The arrival of Kyle Chambers threw a monkey wrench into their charade, but Mark wasn’t worried. He just didn’t want to lose the magic that had been building with Emma.
Magic.
Man, it had been a long time since he used that word to describe something he felt for a woman. Why was she so different? Was it just the right time and place or…right woman?
There’d been plenty of “right now” women over the years, but something about her was…more.
Maybe it was just the chemistry, which was real and tangible. Hell, if that bonehead Chambers hadn’t shown up out of the blue, Mark had a feeling he would not have been sleeping on the sofa bed in the living room tonight.
Stepping into the marble-tiled, air conditioned lobby, he glanced around, fairly certain he’d recognize the guy again. Definitely skinny-shouldered, dark hair, glasses, smooth-faced with the kind of goatee that screamed craft-beer-drinking hipster.
No sign of him at the desk or around the lobby. Of course, he could have checked into a room, but Lacey had told Mark they were booked solid when he’d gotten the last available villa. He could talk to Lacey, but he didn’t want to send up any red flags, especially since she’d already questioned Emma at the party last night.
On a hunch, he headed toward the patio, pausing at the doors to scan the outdoor dining area. Almost immediately, he spotted the same guy he’d seen in the parking lot, now sitting at a table alone, looking at his phone.
Mark studied the man that Emma had been ready to marry. His shoulders weren’t that skinny, but he had a lanky build and long limbs. Maybe six feet, forty-ish, decent-looking, he supposed.
Certainly not the monster Mark had imagined, but still a dick based on everything he knew. Suddenly, the man looked up and stood as Lacey Walker headed in his direction.
So it was an ad agency thing that brought him here. Emma would want to know that, and Mark realized he could easily round the bar and take a seat close enough to hear their conversation but not be seen by Lacey.
Without giving it much thought, he went outside, followed that plan, and sat less than five feet away, although his back was to them and Lacey was turned the other way. He was half tempted to take out his phone and fake-text to sneak a picture for Emma.
She’d like that, but Lacey’s words snagged his attention as he casually flagged the bartender.
“I really appreciate you coming all the way down here, Kyle, and how important this is, but I simply don’t have time this week.”
“I had to, Lacey,” he said. “I couldn’t just lose the account without a fight.”
Lose the account? Mark leaned back a few centimeters, listening to the reply.
“You haven’t lost the account,” she said. “I just think it’s time to do an agency review. Casa Blanca is growing, and our needs are changing and—”
“That’s shorthand for East End getting fired,” he said.
During her long silence, Mark quickly ordered a club soda and settled in to hear more.
“Can I at least ask why?” Kyle asked.
“I’ll be straight with you: The three proposed ads you sent last week were bombs,” she said. “I don’t know what happened in creative, but the copy wasn’t what I’ve come to expect from East End. It was lackluster. I could have written better copy.”
Mark knew what had happened; Kyle’s superstar copywriter quit with a broken heart two weeks ago. He stole a glance over his shoulder and could see Lacey getting up already.
“I hired you because the creative sang,” she said. “I know you came down here to save the account, but we have a huge event, and I need to deal with that. I wish I could offer you a room, but we’re booked solid.”
“Then the advertising must be working,” Kyle replied, a mix of dry humor and hope in the comment.
“I’ll be making a short list of agencies to invite in to pitch, and I promise East End will be on it. Okay? I’m sorry, but I really have to go. Thanks, Kyle.”
She stepped away, brushing past Mark as he turned on the barstool.
“Oh, hello, Mark!” Her voice was lighter and brighter as she greeted him. “How’d the dance lessons go today?”
“Surprisingly fun,” he said.
“I’m so glad. Oh, I’m pulling together a group to go to the Barefoot Bucks exhibition game later this week. Can you and Emma join us?”
“Absolutely. We were thinking about going to the game anyway. Thanks, Lacey.”
She clasped her hands, pleased with his answer, her bright smile growing. “Perfect. I’ll see you at the next meeting.” She gave him a quick hug and took off toward the lobby.
Less than ten seconds later, Kyle Chambers had moved to the bar, his gaze on Mark.
Mark acknowledged the look with a jut of his chin.
He took the stool next to Mark with a low sigh. “You know the owner, huh?”
“I’m here for an event she’s hosting.”
Heaving out a breath, he signaled the bartender, then glanced at Mark’s half-empty club soda. “Can I get you one?”
“No, thanks, I’m good.”
“Wish I could say the same,” Kyle said glumly, holding up his empty beer glass for a refill.
“Sorry to hear that,” Mark said, even though the bastard deserved what he had coming to him. Still, maybe he could get more details for Emma. “Work or women?”
He snorted. “I’m good with women,” he said. “In fact, my girlfriend is on her way down. They may not have rooms here, but I got a suite at the Ritz in Naples, so screw Casa Blanca and it’s no vacancy thanks to my company’s great advertising.”
Mark hadn’t heard much past girlfriend. He has a girlfriend already? “I’m sure you guys will love the Ritz.”
“I don’t plan to leave the suite, if you get my drift.”
Classy. “How long have you been together?” Mark asked, trying for casual.
He scratched the back of his head, thinking. “Six weeks, maybe?”
What? Mark looked hard at the guy. “That’s…a decent amount of time.” For someone who was supposed to have married another woman two weeks ago.
“We had to keep it on the DL for a while because I was getting out of another relationship.”
A low-grade anger bubbled up, and Mark took a gulp of his club soda. “Really.”
“Hey, I wasn’t married. Close, though. In fact, I was engaged and just a couple of weeks away from getting married, but…” He shook his head and took a fresh beer with a nod to the bartender. “When I met Rachel, whoa. Wow. Fireworks. That ever happen to you?”
“Have I ever dumped my fiancée after cheating on her with another woman?” He couldn’t keep the disgust out of his voice. “No. That’s never happened to me.”
Kyle eyed him hard, then shrugged off the obvious judgment. “Hey, no one sees it coming, you know? Wham, it’s love.”
“How’d your former almost-wife take this news?” he asked, already imagining that she wouldn’t tak
e it well when Mark told her the real reason this clown dumped her.
Kyle hesitated before answering, holding the glass close to his lips. “I just told her I had cold feet,” he said. “No reason to break her heart.”
Except you did. “Really big of you,” he said.
“Whatever, pal.” Kyle pushed the stool back. “You’ve never walked in my moccasins.”
“They’d be too small,” Mark mumbled.
Kyle stood, glaring at Mark. “Sorry I talked to you, man.”
“Not as sorry as I am.”
Kyle leaned a little closer, and Mark didn’t even flinch. He could have this skinny prick on the ground with one well-placed kick. “Look, you don’t know a thing about my situation.”
That was where he’d be wrong. Mark leveled a vile look at the guy.
Kyle shrugged again. “I shouldn’t have gotten my meat where I get my bread, you know.”
Screw class. He might have to make this joker eat his hand.
“But I did,” Kyle continued. “I got caught up working late nights, and the next thing you know, one thing led to another, and getting engaged seemed like the right thing to do for a good woman, but for the wrong reasons.”
“So why not tell her the truth?” Mark challenged. Because, damn it, now he would have to.
“Hey, I’m in advertising. My whole career is built on making things sound and seem better than they really are. I didn’t know things were that serious with Rachel. I thought we were just, you know, hooking up.”
What a son of a bitch.
“But then Rach and I went on a ski trip…”
Rachel…not his sister, as he’d told Emma.
“As soon as I realized where things were going, I broke it off with my fiancée.”
Douchebag. “You’re a great guy. So thoughtful.”
“What the hell difference does it make to you?” Kyle asked, not too dumb to miss the sarcasm.
“None at all,” Mark lied, standing up, his hand fisted. One more word, and he’d have to pummel the prick.
Mark walked away, ending the infuriating conversation. All the way back to the villa, he tried to decide how much to tell Emma. Should he break her heart all over again and tell her the truth? Or spare her the pain and be as much of a liar as the chump she almost married?
No, he wasn’t going to break her heart. He couldn’t do that to her.
Chapter Thirteen
Emma listened to Mark’s recounting of the conversation he’d overheard with mixed emotions.
“So he’s losing the business,” she said, running her finger over the top of the crystal wine glass as she thought about…the fact that Kyle wasn’t here to find her.
She didn’t want it to hurt and, really, it didn’t hurt. Just stung her pride a little, that was all.
Mark put his hand on top of hers. “Losing it because the copy’s gone downhill. That should make you feel better.”
She gave him a tight smile. “There is some revenge, yes.”
“She was clear there were no rooms or villas available, too. So no chance of running into him.”
“Thank God.” She imagined the conversation and how brutal it must have been for Kyle to find out East End was losing that account. She didn’t want to care about him, but the loss would be tough and maybe deep if it meant laying off someone at the agency.
“Did he say anything else?” she asked. “Anything about—”
The villa doorbell rang, and Mark pushed his chair back. “That’s dinner. And, I’ll try to remember.”
“No, no.” She waved her hand. “It’s fine. I know enough.”
When he left, Emma took another sip of wine and looked out over the evening sky, the remnants of another perfect sunset glowing over the sand.
Kyle was history, she thought. And tonight was…perfect.
Mark came back, and she chatted with the waiter who set up a formal table with a cloth and candles and delivered a glorious dinner under glass domes. While they talked, she noticed that Mark stood off to the side, looking out at the water, his broad shoulders more tense than she’d seen them.
Well, he did just go on a spy mission…for her.
After the Junonia waiter left their villa, they sat across from each other, the aroma of spicy shrimp and jasmine rice drifting up from the plates. Emma took another sip of wine and leaned closer.
“I have to say something.” She put her hand over his and gave a squeeze. “You sure know how to turn a bad scene into a great night. This is the second time in two days that you transformed my unhappiness into a perfect time. Thank you, Mark.”
His smile was just a little tighter than she was used to. “My pleasure.”
“Spying on my ex was a pleasure? Why do I think you’re lying?”
“I’m not lying, I…” He let out a breath, picking up his fork but not diving in.
“What is it?” she asked, definitely sensing something wasn’t right. “Was it my being a pain about going to the high school today? Because I’m sorry if I came on too strong.”
“No, not at all.”
She eyed him longer. “But you seem really bothered by something.”
“I didn’t like that guy,” he ground out. “You’re so much better than he is. What if you hadn’t figured that out?”
She swallowed, embarrassed and surprised how much his opinion mattered. “Well, then I guess I’d be another statistic and end up divorced, or I would have worked hard to make it a decent marriage.”
“Did you really love him?” he asked.
“I…I…” She inhaled deeply, enjoying the aroma, but not the truth. “I live in New York, which is no easy place to be single. I’m staring down the barrel of thirty-nine, and every year, the pool of available men gets murkier. I’ve been a bridesmaid in five weddings in the past four years, and my married friends are stable and happy and…not lonely on Sunday afternoons. I…” Her voice cracked, and she wanted to kick herself. “I just wasn’t lucky in love like you were.”
He looked at her, silent.
“I mean, I know you weren’t lucky. But you did have that one great love. You know what it’s like and…”
“Is it possible you didn’t really love him? You just wanted him to be the right guy?”
She considered that and didn’t like how close to right he was. “I loved things about him,” she said. “He wasn’t…perfect.”
“No, that’s for sure.” He took a bite of food, looking down, ending the conversation.
“But it’s nice that you care. You know…like a kind older brother.”
He snorted softly, chewing, then wiping his mouth with the napkin, looking hard at her. “Nothing I feel around you is brotherly.”
Heat started low in her belly, clutching her. “Oh. That’s…” Exactly how I feel. “Interesting.”
He gave a sly smile. “Isn’t it?”
She looked down at her own plate, not remotely sure where this was going, but like some of those left turns she’d made today…she wanted to risk it.
“So why don’t you go after the Casa Blanca account and start your own boutique ad agency?” he asked.
The question threw her, making her fork freeze mid-bite. “What?”
“You heard me.”
She blinked at him, the idea so…amazing and far-fetched and frightening she couldn’t quite respond.
“I mean, I don’t know a lot about advertising, but if creative is the low point on that account, and that’s what you do, maybe you should talk to Lacey and pool your resources and take the business right out from under your ex’s snotty nose.”
“You really didn’t like him, did you?”
“You have no idea.” He took a deep drink of wine. “But, seriously, Em. You quit your job because of him and what he did, and now he’s losing the account because you’re gone.”
“I don’t hate that idea, but…” She tried to eat, but couldn’t bring herself to take a bite. His suggestion just fell all over her chest like a warm c
oat on a cold day, and she really didn’t want to like it so much, but… “No.”
“Why not?” he asked.
“Really? You need the list of reasons? How about I don’t have the experience? I need working capital. I don’t know the account management side. I might get sued by East End Marketing for poaching a client. And…and…”
“And you’re scared.”
She stared at him, giving up a bite for a drink of cold water for her surprisingly parched throat. “Yes,” she said after a moment. “Spitless.”
“Then it’s another fear we’ll have to conquer.”
She laughed. “Get three clients and I’m an agency.”
“Damn straight,” he said, his own appetite appearing to improve with the turn of the conversation. “You have the experience, and you probably picked up more about management than you realize.” He took a bite, then pointed the fork at her as he chewed and swallowed. “I’d finance your working capital and, honestly, that loser doesn’t have the nads to sue you. I’d bet my life on it.”
And he’d probably be right. “You’d finance it? I don’t think I could accept that offer, but thank you.”
“Hey, I saw you in action today. When you want to come up with something creative…” He leaned forward and lifted his brows. “Everyone will sway?”
She laughed. “It worked, even if Jasper was only slightly horrified at first.”
“But you persuaded him, and isn’t that the whole idea of advertising? You have skills, and I’d invest in them.”
“Thank you, but that would…” Complicate the hell out of my life.
“What if we win the dance competition?” he asked. “You could have my half. Then you’d have ten grand to start.”
She stared at him, not sure if she wanted to throttle him, kiss him, or laugh in his face. “You’re serious.”
“Dead.”
“Why?”
He shrugged and cut the tail off a shrimp. “Because I want to. This is how I live now. Carpe diem, you know?”