Chapter 8
It was a quiet bridal party that sat down to breakfast the following morning. Tired, hungover, and, in Chloe’s case, mortified.
“I can’t believe I chucked up all over Connor.” She groaned.
“That was nothing. You were a second away from grabbing his dick,” Nicole informed her, which elicited another groan from
Chloe and a round of giggles from everyone else.
“I heard you told Chloe off,” Jessica remarked, drawing Olivia’s attention to her left. “Defended your territory like an irate
lioness.”
Ruddy hell. “Who said that?”
She grinned. “The first part came from Sophie. The second was my and Ashley’s take on the situation.”
Olivia gave Jessica a narrow-eyed stare. “I didn’t want Chloe doing anything she’d regret today.”
“Um, I know it sounds bad,” Chloe whispered. “But part of me doesn’t regret coming on to him. I mean, at least I gave it a
go.”
“Do you mean the part that reached for his belt?” Samira smirked.
“Hey, who here can’t relate to that drunk instinct?” Nicole pointed to herself. “I know I can.”
They were objectifying him, Olivia thought, annoyed.
Jessica gave her concerned look. “What’s the frowny face for, Liv?”
“We’d be cross if we overheard a group of guys talking about one of us like this.”
“They’re having a laugh,” Jessica countered. “And I doubt Connor would be offended by it.” She peered at Olivia closely. “What’s
more, I think you know that, like you also know the person you’re really annoyed at is yourself because, like it or not, you
consider him your man.”
She wanted to dismiss her sister’s hypothesis as nonsense, but the lie stuck in her throat. Galling as it was to admit, she
didn’t like Sophie’s friends, her young, gorgeous friends, finding him attractive. “What’s on the agenda today?” she asked in a desperate bid for a change of subject.
Jessica gave her a knowing smile and looked over at Chloe. “You’re in charge, Chloe.”
“Oh God, I can’t remember.” Chloe held her head in her hands. “Whatever we had planned, I’m going to spend it sleeping.”
“I’m surprised you’ve got a headache.” Nicole nudged her in the ribs. “Didn’t you sick up most of the alcohol?”
“Piss off.” Chloe flipped her off, then sunk her head onto the table. “You guys go and have a good time. Just leave me here.”
“No way. Why don’t we go to the beach?” Sophie suggested. “Chloe’s not the only one who needs some downtime. Let’s have a
quiet day and an early night so we can live it up tomorrow.”
They all agreed on a time to meet but Olivia declined, opting to stay in the hotel. A decision based on the fact she could
read through her traders’ macro thought piece without being nagged at. And not because there was a chance of bumping into
Connor. It was a measure of how hungover they all were that nobody made much of a protest, though Jessica did give her another
of her far too knowing smiles.
After choosing a lounger overlooking the harbor, Olivia slavered her body in suntan lotion and settled down to catch up on
her reading.
She had no clue how long she’d been there when the hairs on the back of her neck began to twitch. When she glanced up, her
heart beat that little bit faster.
Connor, his white chef jacket rolled up at the sleeves and undone at the collar, stood a few feet away from her, looking like
every woman’s holiday fantasy.
“All alone?”
“I didn’t fancy the beach.”
“Didn’t like the idea of getting sand out of . . .” His eyes dropped to what she was reading and he screwed up his beautiful,
perfectly symmetrical face. “Financial reports? Seriously?”
“God, not you as well.” She jutted out her chin. “I enjoy reading them.”
He let out a bark of laughter. “If that’s your idea of fun, you need to reconsider the definition of the word. Have you had
lunch?”
She glanced at her watch. Was it really that time already? “No.”
With one slick movement, he pried the document out of her hands. “Come with me.”
“Er, no, thanks.” Ignoring the skip in her pulse at the authority in his voice, she glared back at him. “First, nobody tells
me what to do. Second, I don’t go anywhere without knowing exactly where I’m going.”
He sighed. “Okay, Livvy, would you please let me take you out to lunch.”
“Olivia.”
He shook his head. “Nope, some things are nonnegotiable.”
“I could say the same.”
“You could.” He scanned the pool area before hunkering down and resting his arms on his knees, hands loosely clasped. The
picture of a cool, confident alpha male. “But then you’d miss out on the best lunch on the island.”
“I thought you made the best lunch.”
Another low laugh. “I’m good, but not this good.” He arched his brow. “So, are you coming?”
“Where is this magical place?”
“Does it matter?” She wanted to reply that of course it did. Where it was would give her an indication of how long she’d be
away. Also what she should wear. But before she had a chance to say anything, he hauled her to her feet. “The answer is ‘No,
Connor, it doesn’t matter. I’m happy to eat anywhere with you.’”
“I don’t lie.”
He burst out laughing. “God, you know how to bust my balls. Okay, throw on a pair of shorts and meet me in the car park in
five.”
“This seems like a good time to remind you I also don’t like being told what to wear,” she grumbled, shoving her sunglasses
and phone into her bag and following him.
He turned and took her totally off guard by grabbing her hand and drawing her into the alley that led to the front of the
hotel. Easing her against the wall, he stepped in front of her, putting his giant muscular body right up against hers. Her
blood began to hum as he stared into her eyes, all virile, pulsating male. “Take as long as you like,” he said quietly, a
husk to his voice that caused a shiver to skate down her spine. “I’ll be waiting for you.”
She swallowed. “And the shorts?”
A slow grin spread across his face. “I said that for a reason, but we can work with whatever you want to wear.”
“Work with it?”
“See you outside, Livvy.”
She cursed him under her breath all the way to her room, yet when she opened the wardrobe, she pulled out a pair of chino
shorts. It was one thing to refuse to be dictated to, another to be caught wearing a dress if he planned to take her for a
hike through the woods.
Deliberately she took a moment to check her work emails—she’d told everyone she was out of the country but not out of contact
if needed. She saw one from Simon asking both her and Stuart if they should sell out of a stock position following the quarterly
earnings report, and she rattled off a reply. Something she wouldn’t have been able to do if she hadn’t spent the morning
reading that report.
Smiling in satisfaction that she’d beaten Stuart to the reply, she popped her phone back into her bag and headed for the door.
A second later she sprinted back to the bathroom to add a quick dash of eyeliner and a dab of lip gloss. Because her lips
were dry. And her eyes were . . . damn, she had no excuse for that.
She took the stairs down to the lobby and headed outside. When she rounded the corner to the car park, she found Connor leaning
nonchalantly against . . .
“Oh, no.”
He unfurled his long body and walked toward her, carrying a helmet. “Oh, yes.”
“I’m not riding a . . . thing designed for irresponsible twenty-year-olds.”
“It’s an ATV, Livvy, not a souped-up hot hatch.” He waved toward the motorbike on four wheels. “We get to feel the breeze
from the ocean as we nip down the coast, the sense of freedom, unconstrained by seat belts and metal walls.” He darted her
a crooked smile. “In terms you’d understand, it’s a practical alternative to renting a car. Cheaper, easier to park, and goes
places cars can’t.”
“I’m sure it’s perfect for you. It’s just not for me.”
“How do you know if you don’t try?” With a shake of his head, he plonked the helmet on her. “Come on, I’m starving.”
She either went with him or turned on her heel and walked back inside. Something a dull, staid old woman would do. “Fine. But if I end up in hospital and by some miracle you come out unscathed, you’re responsible for telling my sisters.
And visiting me, because I don’t see why I should be the only one stuck inside a hospital when this was your idea.”
Her belly tumbled as he pressed a kiss to her nose. “No problem. I’ll even bring grapes.”
There was no feeling like zipping through the streets of Nantucket on a quad bike, the breeze cooling his body, the views
unobstructed by the confines of a car. But the experience was intensified a millionfold with Olivia’s body plastered against
his back, her arms around his waist. Yes, those arms were rigid, but did he feel bad for taking her out on the bike rather
than walking into town for lunch? Only a tiny bit. Whatever guilt he felt was totally outweighed by the pleasure of having
her so close.
He slowed as they neared Madakat Beach and her arms relaxed their death grip. When he came to a stop at Millie’s restaurant,
he smiled to himself as she jumped off the bike as soon as he turned off the engine.
She pulled off her helmet and shook her head. Wisps of her now loosened ponytail fluttered around her face, softening her
features. “This lunch had better be worth it.”
“It will be.” He took her hand and tugged her toward the restaurant. “If nothing else, you’ll enjoy the setting.”
At the bar he ordered a selection of food to take out: tacos filled with tuna and seared scallops, fried clams in brioche
rolls, clam chowder with oyster crackers.
“Wow,” she said as it was sealed into takeout boxes. It was the first proper smile he’d received from her this afternoon.
“Wait till you taste it,” he told her, slotting the boxes into the bike’s storage box.
“We’re not eating here?”
He smirked. “ATV, remember?” She glanced warily at it and he laughed as he jumped on. “You’ve trusted me so far. Be a shame
to have to eat these in the car park instead of on the beach.”