“How do you know about those?”
He shrugged a shoulder as he dragged a hand over his dark hair. “I asked Reid what your deal was with lying. He told me you have a list of rules you live by, that’s all. Are they supposed to be a secret?”
The question took her aback. “No, not necessarily. But they’re personal, so they’re not something I go around advertising. And, no, that isn’t one of the rules. More like a mantra, I guess.”
They picked up their walk again, trudging through the soft white sand toward the bar. She’d hoped claiming her rules as “personal” would prevent further discussion, but she was beginning to see Jackson as a junkyard dog that wouldn’t let go once he’d latched onto something.
“So why do you have them?”
She shrugged. “They keep me in line with the way I want to live my life and the kind of people I want to surround myself with.”
“Wow. That sounds really…” He seemed to be searching for a polite way to say what he really thought. “Careful.”
She shook her head and smiled, refusing to let him get under her skin any more.
When she didn’t take the bait, he continued. “Where’d you get the idea for something like that anyway?”
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him she’d gotten it from Gandhi’s life teachings or something equally profound…but that would be breaking Rule #6.
“It doesn’t matter where I got the idea. What matters is that they mean something to me. And they work. You should try coming up with a few of your own. I’d bet you could use a little structure in your life.”
“I have plenty of structure when it comes to my training. I don’t need it for anything else.”
She laughed. “Oh, yes, you do.”
Crossing his arms, he braced his legs shoulder-width apart. A stance she now recognized as his challenge-issuing pose. Also, his mega-alpha super-hot pose. “Give me a rule you think I should have.”
“How about ‘Anything other than early,’” she said, pinning him with a meaningful look, “‘is late.’” She waited only a few beats for his next witty remark. When one didn’t seem to be forthcoming, she mentally marked it as a win in her column. Shabba! “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment with the wedding coordinator at four o’clock, and although it’s not one of my rules, I still refuse to be late.”
“We.”
“What?”
“We have an appointment with the coordinator.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary. I can take care of it.”
Please let me take care of it. Her emotions were all over the place around him, and she didn’t have the first clue as to what to do about it. She needed a few hours to herself. Time to flush all things Jackson from her mind. Time to gird her loins before she needed to act like half of a couple in love.
“I don’t doubt your capabilities, V, but I don’t think Reid would let Lucie take care of everything herself. After all, as you so aptly pointed out earlier today, Reid is a very attentive man.” He took her hand and held it between his, the roughness of his fingers a scintillating whisper of possibilities. “In fact, I doubt he’d ever let Lucie out of his sight.”
Yep. Capital D Dangerous.
She tried to clear her throat delicately to disguise her sudden unease. “So, I take it you plan on attending all of the appointments this week?”
Cue shit-eating grin. “Oh, yeah.”
She withdrew her hand from his, ignoring the shiver that zipped down her spine as his calluses dragged over her skin, and gave him her best you don’t faze me smile. “Fantastic.”
With that she walked the rest of the way to the bar, retrieved her things, and headed toward the bungalow without looking to see if he followed. As her feet carried her closer to her room, she fiercely prayed for a miraculous mandatory evacuation of every MMA fighter on the island.
…
Jackson stood outside the Honu Café where Vanessa was due to meet the wedding coordinator. Sensing she needed some time to herself earlier, he’d gone home, showered, and changed into a dry pair of cargo shorts and a blue polo. Most days he was either surfing or training, so it wasn’t often he wore anything other than board shorts or athletic shorts. And even though he looked identical to every other guy at the resort who wasn’t poolside or oceanside, he still felt overdressed.
As a couple exited the café, he asked, “Excuse me, can you tell me what time it is?”
“Certainly,” the woman said, checking her slim wristwatch. “It’s ten till four.”