Chapter 8
Adam left the Surf and crossed the street to the Beachcomber, the iconic white hotel that anchored Gansett’s picturesque downtown. He cut through the lobby to the bar, where he took a quick look around but didn’t see Grant.
“Hi, Adam,” the bartender, Chelsea, said. “I hadn’t heard you were home.”
“How’s it going, Chelsea?”
“Race Week madness. We’ll all be glad when it’s over.”
As she said the words, a roar went up from the other end of the bar. “What’s going on down there?”
“Some of the sailors are teaching Abby Callahan how to do tequila shots. Pretty entertaining. I don’t think she’s ever done one before.”
Chelsea was still talking as Adam launched off his barstool and stalked to the far end of the bar where he found Abby in the middle of a circle of men.
They were cheering her on as she sprinkled salt between her thumb and index finger.
She wore a low-cut black top that showed off some rather significant curves, as well as deep red lipstick that highlighted her full mouth.
With her dark hair loose around her shoulders, she was like a living, breathing wet dream.
In all the years that Abby had dated Grant, Adam had never thought of her as anything other than pretty, probably because she was his brother’s girlfriend.
As he stared at her now, though, he realized she was hot.
Smoking hot and about to take another shot of high-test liquor.
That snapped him out of his stupor to take action.
He pushed through the crowd of guys and grabbed the hand that held the shot glass, sloshing tequila all over her audience.
One of the guys fought back. “Hey, dude, what the hell are ya doin’?”
“Party’s over,” Adam said as he yanked on Abby’s arm and pushed the protestor back.
She resisted his effort to extricate her. “Cut it out!”
“No wife of mine is going to behave this way in public,” Adam said, full of righteous indignation.
“Whoa,” the mouthy guy said, hands in the air. “She never said anything about being married.”
“She tends to go a little crazy when we’re on vacation away from the kids,” Adam said with a good-natured grin. “But you can’t blame her. Six kids in six years would make anyone crazy.”
“Six kids? Shit, man. Do you need a drink?”
“I’m good. Come on, honey. Time to call it a night. Say good night to your new friends.”
Abby muttered her good-byes and stared daggers at him as he half walked, half dragged her toward the lobby.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Chelsea watching in amusement as he marched Abby out of the bar.
“What the heck do you think you’re doing?” Abby fought against the grip he had on her arm. The slight slur to her words told him she’d gotten in a few shots before he arrived.
“So the drinking is going better, but the swearing still has room for improvement, huh?”
“I can’t believe you ruined everything! I was having fun! Now they all think I’m married, so none of them will sleep with me. Thanks a lot!” She pushed him away and swayed erratically.
Adam put his arm around her and guided her to the stairs. “You don’t want to sleep with one of them.”
“Yes, I do! Why can’t you get that through your thick skull?”
“Because I know you, Abby. You’re not like that.”
“You don’t know anything about me, and I want to be like that. I can’t do that with you ruining everything.” They had reached the first landing, between the first and second floors, when she stopped short, her eyes big and glassy.
“Are you going to be sick?”
She took a couple of deep breaths and shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“Which room is yours?”
“I’m not telling you that. Go home, Adam. I don’t need you to save me from myself.”
“You need someone to save you before you make a huge mistake that you’ll instantly regret.”
Her eyes flashed with anger. “I don’t know where you get off thinking you know me better than I know myself,” she said, loud enough for everyone in the lobby to hear her. “If I want to drink and swear and have meaningless sex, it’s my business!”
“I’ll have meaningless sex with you, baby,” a male voice called up the stairs.
“Get your eyes off my wife,” Adam growled. He thought he heard the other man mutter, “Sorry” under his breath, but he wasn’t sure.
“I’m not his wife!”
“Move it,” Adam said to her. “I’m not leaving until you’re locked in your room.”
“How do you know I’ll stay there when you leave?”
“Who said I was leaving?”
“No one invited you to stay.”
“We’re making a scene. Let’s have this argument in your room.”
Scowling at him, she wrenched her arm free of his hold and marched unsteadily up the stairs. Adam followed a step or two behind, ready to catch her if she stumbled. On the third floor, she stopped outside Room 323.
“I’m here. You can go now.”
Not wanting to leave her upset and alone, Adam scrambled to think of some way to continue their “conversation.” But before he could come up with a plan, his phone dinged with a text that he only checked because he was concerned about his brother.
From Stephanie: Grant came into the restaurant. Went for a walk, forgot his phone. Crisis averted. Thx for the help.
No problem. Glad he’s okay.
“Well, that’s a relief,” Adam said to himself as much as to Abby. He fired off a quick text to his parents to let them know Grant was okay.
“What is?”
“Grant showed up at Stephanie’s restaurant. We couldn’t find him for a couple of hours.”
“Where was he?”
“Went for a walk and forgot his phone.”
Abby’s snort was most unladylike. “Grant? Walk for hours without his phone? That’ll be the day. He might miss a call from Hollywood, and the world will end.”
Adam laughed at her spot-on assessment of his brother. “Very true.” It was also yet another reminder of how out of character Grant’s recent behavior had been.
Abby leaned on the door jamb. “You’re worried about him.”
“We all are.”
“If there’s anything I can do…”
“That’s nice of you, thanks.” Once again the conversation stalled, but Adam didn’t feel comfortable leaving her to her own devices in her current mood.
Why he’d decided her own devices were his problem was something he could figure out later, after he’d seen her safely into her room. “I heard from Sasha.”
Abby gasped, and her full lips pursed fetchingly. “Really? What did she say?”
Adam was so focused on her sexy mouth that it took a second for the question to permeate the fog in his brain. “Um, she’s sorry. Wants to talk to me. Loves me, etc.”
“What did you say?”
“Nothing,” he said with a shrug. “She texted. I haven’t replied.”
“Are you going to?”
A door opened down the corridor, and a sleep-mussed head poked out. “Do you mind? People are sleeping.”
“Oh,” Abby said. “Sorry.” Before Adam’s dazzled eyes, she reached into her top and pulled a room key card out of her bra. When she caught him watching her, she blushed madly. “What? I didn’t want to take a purse with me.”
“I hope you’ve got ID stashed in the other cup.”
Over her shoulder, she stuck her tongue out at him. “It’s in my back pocket, if you must know.”
The movement of her tongue detonated his stockpile of lust, sending it all to his groin in a rush of heat that had him removing his jacket to hide the effect she’d had on him.
What the hell was that all about? Adam found himself once again trying to remember that this was Abby, who had nearly married his brother—the same brother who was going through some sort of private ordeal and probably wouldn’t appreciate Adam lusting after his ex.
A huge bed dominated the small hotel room. Since there was nowhere else to sit, Adam lowered himself to the corner of the bed, keeping his jacket strategically placed over his lap. “Hot in here,” he muttered.
“No such thing as air-conditioning in the hotels on this island.” She opened a window, sending a cool breeze billowing through the small space.
Abby sat next to him on the bed, kicked off her extremely high heels and crawled up to the pillows. “Are you going to write back to Sasha?”
“No.”
“Won’t you have to deal with her eventually? You live together, right?”
“Lived. Past tense.”
“What about all your stuff?”
“I’ve got my computers. That’s all I care about. I’ll send movers to get the rest.”
“And the business?”
“It’s all hers. They have to buy me out, which they’re in the process of doing, but beyond that, it’s a done deal. I don’t expect to ever see her again.”
“Since you insist on forcing your company on me, I’d much rather talk to your face than your back.”
“Sorry.” Adam turned to find her resting on her side, head propped on an upturned hand. The position did wondrous things for her cleavage. He forced his gaze off her chest and found her watching him with amusement and confusion mixed into her expression.
“Are you sad at the idea of never seeing her again?”
While Adam didn’t want to discuss Sasha, he was anxious to keep Abby talking so she wouldn’t kick him out and head back to the bar in search of trouble. “It’s funny. A week ago, the idea of never seeing her again would’ve been unimaginable. Now… Not so much. ”
“I know what you mean.”
“Do you think you’ll see Cal again?”
“He says it isn’t over, but for me it is.”
“So you talked to him?” Adam stretched out facedown on the bed but kept about six feet between them. All at once, that space seemed critical. The last thing either of them needed was an explosives-laden rebound with an old friend.
“He called earlier. Apparently, he didn’t see the note I left him. He wanted to know what we were doing for dinner.”
“Did you tell him about the note?”
She nodded, and her chin wobbled ever so slightly. “He was… He was more upset than I’d expected him to be. I didn’t think he’d care.”
“And he did.”
“Yes.”
“Are you sorry you left?”
“No! He might want to deny what’s going on with Candy, but I know what I saw, and I’m not playing second fiddle to her. Candy… Makes me gag just thinking about her.”
“Can I play devil’s advocate for a second here?”
She eyed him cautiously. “If you must.”
“Are you mad at her or at him?”