Chapter 5
CHAPTER
FIVE
LINC
I lose the toss. Which is kind of unfortunate because I know for certain I’m not going to get any sleep on that tiny fucking piece of furniture in the corner of the living room. Not that I’m going to let Tessa know that. She’s still holding that hat like I’m about to take it off her again.
I don’t know why it annoys me so much. Maybe it’s because it’s kind of adorable and Carmichael is anything but adorable.
Anyway, even if she’d lost, I would have found a way to give her the bed. I’m not that much of an asshole.
As she puts the dime back into her purse, I check my watch, trying to keep the peace she’d asked for even though she rejected my deal. “We have an hour until dinner. Want to walk down the beach?”
“I should call my daughter,” she says. “And then get ready.”
“Sure.” I nod. “I’ll go anyway. Take a look around.”
“Sounds good. ”
“I’m just gonna get changed,” I tell her. “Can I use the bedroom for a minute?” See, I can do nice.
Her cheeks pink up like I’ve suggested I’ll be doing something much worse than changing clothes in the only bedroom in the cottage. “Oh, um yeah. Sure. I mean you’re going to need to use it too, right? And you’ll need half the closet space. And some drawers.”
“I’ll just keep my clothes in my suitcase.” I shrug.
“Won’t they get wrinkled?” she asks me.
“Probably. But I know how to use an iron.” I grab my luggage and walk into the bedroom, putting it on the luggage rack and opening it up, before taking out a pair of shorts and a t-shirt from the clothes I threw in there this morning. I grab a pair of slides for my feet, and within two minutes I’m ready to leave.
“Okay. I’ll be back in half an hour or so.” I hook my sunglasses into the neckline of my t-shirt.
She nods. “Over dinner we should talk about our plan.”
“What plan?”
“We need to review the presentation. Decide how we’re going to incorporate the new videos into it.” She’s looking at the list of excursions the receptionist gave us, already making notes on it.
“Okay,” I agree. “Let’s talk about it over dinner. Do you need anything else?” God, my mom would be proud of me.
“No. I’m all good.”
“Okay then. I’ll be back in around half an hour.” It won’t take longer than ten minutes for me to shower and get changed when I get back from my walk. And I get the distinct impression she needs to be alone right now.
Not that I can blame her. I kind of feel the same way. In fact, I’m kind of kicking myself for not double checking our reservation. I know the staff think they’re doing us a favor by giving us one of their nicer cottages, but it’s made for couples and families, not co-workers. I should have specified that we needed two separate cottages, not beds.
I guess I’m lucky she’s going along with my stupid mistake. Most people wouldn’t. And if my spine is tied up in twenty different knots by the morning, that’s the price I pay for being an idiot.
I lift my hand in goodbye and head out to the deck, taking in a long breath of air. It really is beautiful here. I’ve traveled to a lot of places. I spend half my life on an airplane, after all, at Roman’s behest. I’ve even been to the Bahamas a few times before. But this is my first time on Grand Exuma and I’m kind of blown away.
And that’s when I decide it’s time to start being a professional. I pull my phone out – state of the art with a hell of a great camera included – and start recording some video of the cottage and surrounding area. I even manage to catch a few seconds of the Bahama Woodstar bird that is hanging around our cottage before he flies up into the trees.
As I make my way around the cottage ready to head to the ocean, I suddenly hear Tessa’s voice.
“Yes,” she says. “One bungalow. As in I have to share with him. And get this… there’s only one bed.”
I can’t hear the other side of the conversation. She must not have the call on speaker phone. But my curiosity is piqued anyway.
Yes, I know that eavesdroppers never hear good of themselves. But they also don’t get blindsided. And right now, I want to hear her pure, unadulterated response to having to share a bungalow with me.
“Of course he took the sofa,” she’s saying. “He’s an asshole, but not that much of an asshole.”
I blink, because that’s almost exactly what I said to myself. Damn, are we that similar?
No. She’s nothing like me .
“Oh shut up,” she says quickly, giving an awkward laugh. And it’s at this point I realize she’s not talking to her daughter. I should have guessed that earlier. Why would she be telling a little kid she was sharing a cabin with me? But anyway, it makes me want to hear more. So I stay completely still.
“I’m not going to ask him to share a bed with me,” she whispers. “Stop that.” And hell, now I’m more than interested.
I’m fucking fascinated. I never for a moment considered that we’d share a bed. Heck, I’d be worried about getting covered in spikes because she can be that prickly. But now I can’t stop listening if I tried.
“It’s not one of your romance novels, Ange,” she says. “And no. Because…”
Because what? I stand as still as a statue, waiting to hear her response. I’d kill to hear the other side of the conversation. A bird flies down and lands at my feet, pecking around the sand.
“You know why,” she says softly.
I grimace. No I don’t. Tell me!
There’s a long sigh. “You know how long it’s been. Two years.”
Since what? Her divorce? Since she’s been on vacation?
Since she had sex? Fuck, that’s a long time. And now another part of me is interested. Because the idea of being the first man to touch Carmichael in two years makes me feel like a caveman.
I want to unfreeze the ice queen.
“You know he’s hot. You just looked him up,” Tessa says. And a grin slowly forms on my lips. “If you like that kind of thing,” she adds, the grin kind of freezes.
There’s a pause. “I’m not going to have sex with Lincoln Salinger,” she says firmly.
My mouth drops open. Dear fucking God, is this what women talk about on the phone? I guess that’s my cue to leave. Not just because I shouldn’t have been listening in the first place, but because there’s a weird taste in my mouth that I can’t quite get rid of. I pull my sandals off and tiptoe around the cottage to the stairs, taking them quickly and hurrying down the beach in case she decides to look out of the window.
I’m not going to have sex with Lincoln Salinger.
Huh. Nobody asked her anyway.
And if she wanted to?
I let out a low breath. Because if she did, I’d probably say yes.
I’m an asshole. But I’m also human. And Tessa Carmichael is a beautiful woman. She’s also a challenge I’m not sure I can win.
And I always like to win.
TESSA
Linc walks back into the cottage right as I’m walking out of the bedroom. After calling Angela and then talking to Zoe who seems as happy as she can be at her dad’s house, I showered quickly, not bothering to wash my hair because I did it this morning and there’s not enough time to dry it right now. Instead, I’ve put it up into a kind of topknot, with some strands falling out around my face.
I’m wearing one of the new dresses I bought during an emergency shopping trip with Angela last weekend. It’s white and strappy, the bodice tight and the skirt floaty. It makes me feel good.
Linc has the weirdest expression on his face as he looks at me. I have to double check my dress to make sure the hem isn’t tucked into my panties, but it’s flowing perfectly down to just above my knees.
And he’s still staring at me.
“The bathroom’s a little steamy,” I tell him. “I’ve had the fan on but it doesn’t seem to be doing much.”
He nods and it strikes me that I’ve never seen Linc Salinger so quiet before. He has words for everything. It’s unnerving.
“Are you okay?” I ask him, actually starting to get worried. “Did something happen while you were out walking?”
“What do you mean?” His voice sounds strained.
“You just seem…” I trail off because I don’t know the right word. “ Off ?”
“I’m not being off,” he says quickly.
“Okay then.” I shrug. Backing off.
“I’m just wondering if I’ll actually be able to make my way to the shower,” he mutters. “It looks like the sixth ring of hell in there.”
Okay, so the bathroom is kind of full of my stuff. I brought three toiletry bags – one for my hair, one for the shower, and one for my makeup – but there aren’t enough surfaces in the tiny room and they’ve kind of spread out. “You want me to move my things out?” I ask him.
“It’s fine. I’ll just put my bottle of shampoo somewhere,” he tells me.
“I’m certain you didn’t just bring a bottle of shampoo.” I narrow my eyes at him, because he’s the kind of man who brings just as many bottles and sprays as I have. “I bet you have three bags, too.”
His eyes catch mine. “Two.”
“There you go. And you don’t need to wear makeup so that’s pretty much the same as me.”
“You don’t need to wear makeup either,” he says gruffly, then passes me as he walks into the bathroom and pushes the door shut. I blink. Did he really just say that? It sounded weirdly like a compliment, but I have no idea what to do with that thought.
The shower is turned on immediately, and it’s as loud out here as it was when I was standing under it. I guess the walls in this place weren’t built for privacy.
No, they were built for love. I tip my head to the side, wondering if we can somehow use that in the PR pitch.
“Fuck.” A loud thump comes from the bathroom, making me jump.
“Are you okay?” I call out.
“You heard that?” he calls back. He sounds kind of annoyed. Did a fish bite him or something?
“Yep.”
“Of course you fucking did,” he mutters.
I open my mouth to tell him that I heard that too, but nobody likes a smart ass, and I’m pretty sure Linc knows I can hear him. I also hear the thud of his clothes as they fall to the floor, then the change in the sound of the water spray as he climbs underneath it.
Naked. Linc Salinger is naked. And I start to blush because I hadn’t thought about how sharing this cottage with him would feel so intimate. And of course it should. This whole resort is made for lovers, including this cottage. It’s all Angela’s fault for planting that seed in my brain. If she hadn’t said I should choose Linc as my first post-divorce sex partner I wouldn’t even be thinking like this.
I know he’d be good. I just know it. He has that cockiness to him that only men who know what they’re doing in bed have. He exudes sex, and I hate that.
I try to forget what Ange said, because I definitely won’t be going near Salinger.
There’s a buzz from the sofa and I realize that Linc must have left his phone on the back of it before he walked into the bathroom. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I lean over to see what kind of notification he has on his phone.
Hi, handsome. Long time no see. Want to join me and Catriona on a yacht next week? We’ll have it all to ourselves, just the three of us. A fun time guaranteed!
It’s from some woman named Liliana. And it makes my stomach feel slightly sick. Not because I’m in any way, shape, or form attracted to this man. I’m not. It’s just the thought of him and two women.
It’s like somebody has thrown a bucket of ice cold water over me. And I’m thankful, really. I needed something to bring me back to reality.
He’s not my type. And I’m never going there. To try to push the image of Linc Salinger and two women out of my mind, I grab my own phone and check my messages, then send a quick email to Gina to make sure I haven’t missed too much at the office.
By the time I hit send the bathroom door opens and Linc walks nonchalantly into the living room, his body glistening with water, a white towel wrapped around his hips.
For a moment I openly stare at his chest. At the defined rise and fall of his pectorals, the way his stomach is ridged, and the little line of hair that dips down from his navel, disappearing into the towel.
“Want me to do a twirl?” he asks, lifting a brow.
“Why are you in the living room half dressed?” I ask tightly.
“Because I need to get my clothes.” He saunters over to his case, lifting it up easily and putting it on the sofa. He unzips it and pulls out a shirt and some pants .
“You’re still looking,” he says, even though his gaze is on the case.
“You had a message while you were in the shower,” I tell him, ignoring his taunting.
“You been checking my phone, Carmichael?”
“Your phone was buzzing. I was trying to turn it off. And then I decided not to touch it, since I don’t know where it’s been.”
His gaze lifts to mine. “You don’t know where it’s been,” he repeats. “Where do you think it’s been?”
“With two women named Catriona and Liliana?” I reply.
His smirk widens. He says nothing as he picks up the phone to read the message. Then he turns it back off.
“Aren’t you going to reply?” I ask. I don’t know why I’m so annoyed right now.
“I’ll do it later,” he says. “Now I’m going to get dressed. You want me to leave the door open so you can watch?”
“I wasn’t watching you,” I protest.
“Sure you weren’t.” He winks and turns around.
“I wasn’t,” I say loudly, as he closes the door.
Aggravated, I sit down and let out a loud sigh. I’d drop my face into my hands but I don’t want to smudge my makeup.
We’ve been together less than twenty-four hours, and I already remember why I don’t like him that much.
It’s going to be a very long few days.