Rules of Entanglement

Day 1: Sunday


“He’s now officially an hour late.”

And talking to yourself out loud makes you crazy as well as hungry and stranded.

Vanessa MacGregor sat on a bench next to her suitcase and carry-on outside the Honolulu airport, trying to ignore her grumbling stomach. She’d finished gaping in awe at the picturesque scenery about forty minutes ago when she realized her best friend Lucie’s brother, who lived on the island, was running more than just a tad past the arranged pickup time.

Drumming her manicured fingernails on the back of her cell, she debated whether or not to call Lucie, but she didn’t want to worry her friend the week of her wedding. She was already stressed out to the max. And that was before some bad sushi had her praying to the porcelain God from severe food poisoning.

Instead, Vanessa had kept trying Jackson’s phone several times, but her calls went directly to voice mail. She was starting to worry something might have happened to him. And if he didn’t show up soon, he might wish something had.

Vanessa pressed a button on her cell phone again to illuminate the screen and check the time. She couldn’t spend all day at the airport. She’d flown down to the über-posh Mau Loa resort four days early, an entire week before her friend’s wedding, to meet up with Jackson and stand in for Lucie and her fiancé with some crazed wedding planner who insisted on the happy couple being on site during the preparations.

If it weren’t for the potential clusterf*ck of missing Jackson while she was en route to the Mau Loa, she’d have taken a cab by now. Staring at her cell and releasing a heavy exhale, she decided to try his phone one more time. Hitting redial, she checked her manicure and listened to the rings mocking her.

“You must be Vanessa.”

She looked up at the sound of a sexy baritone voice, but the sun instantly blinded her. Squinting from the sharp pain to her retinas, she shielded her eyes to try and make out the features of the man in front of her, wearing a pair of navy board shorts and a skin-tight wifebeater.

Dark and delicious. Those were the first words that popped into her head. His short, dark hair was damp, and his beard looked like it had at least a day of growth. Starting mid-bicep on his left arm, a Polynesian tattoo of ocean waves in black ink stretched up to the top of his shoulder. His skin was tan, but not the typical golden shade. It was just a tinge darker, almost like he’d lived here so long his body had adapted to the native heritage. The only part of him that didn’t fit the dark motif was his topaz eyes, reminding her of caramels rimmed with thin lines of dark chocolate… Shit, she needed to get something to eat before she tried licking his eyeballs.

She’d never met Jackson in person, but she’d seen plenty of pictures. Enough to recognize that the owner of the sexy voice was indeed Lucie’s brother and champion MMA fighter. Hearing his voice-mail message come through her phone snapped her out of her momentary stupor long enough to take the phone away from her ear and end the call. The airwaves didn’t do his vocal chords justice, she decided as she stood and held out her hand.

“Jackson, it’s so nice to finally meet you.”

He looked at her outstretched hand with what seemed to be an amused smile before finally grasping it in his own. His hand was rough with calluses and deliciously warm.

“Nice to finally meet the infamous best friend of my sister,” he said with a boyishly charming smile.

Oh, he was definitely doable. Did Hawaiians have the saying “Save a surfboard, ride a surfer”? If not, she was totally starting it. She wondered if he even surfed.

Getting her head back in the game, she asked, “Is everything okay?” At his questioning look she added, “You said you’d be here at eleven and it’s past noon. I tried calling but only got your voice mail.”

Jackson shrugged. “Yeah, my phone died. I don’t pay much attention, since I mostly use it to keep in touch with Lucie. I’m sort of a caveman in terms of technology.”

Vanessa didn’t point out that he’d told Lucie to have her call him on that phone when she landed. Which she had. Five times. “Huh. Must be nice to be that carefree.” She mentally cringed at the judgment in her voice. Just because she was a little cranky from sitting in the sun while hungry for an hour didn’t mean she could abandon all her manners. “So did you have car trouble or something?”

“To be honest, I was surfing and sort of lost track of time.”

Well, that answers the surfing question. Glancing at his wrists, Vanessa noticed he must have sort of lost track of his watch before leaving home with his dead cell phone. All her pleasantries ground to a halt, and the smile on her face morphed from genuine to a tight imitation. Any warm and fuzzies her lady parts had begun harboring for the MMA stud in front of her went poof.

Rule #7: Never take your responsibilities lightly.

What happened to the responsible, shoulder-the-world man Lucie had always described?

“I wish I would’ve known it was going to be an issue for you to come and get me,” she said, trying hard to keep irritation out of her tone. And failing. “I could’ve just as easily taken a cab.”

He put his hands up, palms facing her in resignation. “You’re absolutely right. I was a thoughtless jerk.”

“I didn’t say—”

“And I totally deserve a thorough tongue-lashing,” he said with another smile, “but let’s do it on the way to my Jeep because I’m double-parked and I’d rather be lectured by an angry woman over a burger and a beer. I’m starving.”

Angry? She’d barely even portrayed miffed, much less angry. But he was on the fast track to front row seats if he kept feeding her bullshit and trying to push her around.

Without waiting for her response, Jackson popped up the handle on her suitcase and walked away. A potent cocktail of shock, panic, and indignation lit up her insides. Before he could take two steps with it rolling behind him, she pulled the bag from his grip. He looked at his hand as though stunned she’d taken her luggage back, then glanced up, a brow cocked in question.

“There a problem, princess?”

Princess? She gritted her teeth. Hell, yes, there was a problem. Several, in fact, not the least of which was him acting like he was running her show. Vanessa couldn’t remember the last time she’d let anyone control her or her circumstances. And she sure as hell wasn’t about to start now.

She’d waited for him out of respect for Lucie, despite wanting to find her own way to the resort. Then when he finally arrived, he thought to whisk her luggage from her, expecting her to fall in line behind him. Then apparently he had plans of stopping for lunch—which actually sounded pretty glorious, but that wasn’t the point. He hadn’t even bothered to ask if she was hungry. Then, after that, who knew, maybe he wanted to stop by his house and do some laundry before dropping her off at the resort so she could help his sister.

It was clear Jackson was the wrong guy to get involved with on any level. If she had time to get her itch scratched while on vacation, she’d have to find a different scratcher.

Vanessa sighed. Meeting the wrong men seemed to be the case more often than not over the last couple of years. Another one bites the dust, Nessie. But now wasn’t the time to wallow in thoughts of never finding her own happily ever after. This week was all about making sure Lucie’s fairy tale came true, and clearly her brother wasn’t on the same page.

“You know what?” she began with a gracious smile—fake though it was. “You don’t need to worry about me. I know Lucie asked you to pick me up, and I’m sorry for your trouble, but it’s not necessary. I’ll just take a cab.”

“And risk the wrath of my baby sister the week of her wedding? No thanks. I’d rather fight a kickboxer without a cup. So come on.” This time he slung the strap of her duffel carry-on over his shoulder and turned to walk away.

“Oh my God!” She jammed her hands on her hips, the incredulity at his arrogance preventing her from doing much else. “You really need to stop taking my things.”

He lifted an eyebrow while holding back an amused smirk. Unsuccessfully, she might add. “Not big on chivalry?”

“There’s a distinct difference between chivalrous and pushy. You are being pushy.”

“Pushy?” He made a face like he’d never heard the word before. “I’m just trying to do what I came here for. I apologized for being late and now—”

“No, you didn’t,” she blurted out before she could stop herself. Remembering every word of a conversation could sometimes put a damper on social situations, but as a prosecutor in the DA’s office it was a valuable asset. And calling dickheads on their “chivalrous” behavior? Priceless.

“Yes, I did.”

She sighed. She’d already hopped on the damn train, so she might as well ride it out of the station. “Uh, no, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I—”

She crossed her arms in front of her and cut him off. “Your exact words were, ‘To be honest, I was surfing and sort of lost track of time.’”

“Wow, nothing gets by you, huh? I’ll have to remember that,” he mumbled. Rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, he actually had the gall to grin at her from under his impossibly long lashes like a lying teenager who knew how to charm his way out of trouble. Un. Effing. Real. “Then I’m definitely sorry I didn’t say ‘sorry.’”

Vanessa bet there weren’t many women who told Jackson Maris “no.” Even with the irritation from his high-handedness still riding her, the idea of giving in to him sprouted in the back of her brain. Thankfully, she still had enough sense to squash it before it grew into a Garden of Dreamy Sighs and Head Over Heels. Squash.

“Let’s just forget it. I’m going to take a cab to the resort, and you can do…” She waved her hands around. “Whatever it is you do, and I’ll see you at the rehearsal dinner on Friday.”

There. That wasn’t so hard. Despite being tired, hungry, and disappointed in her Welcome Wagon, she refused to cave in to the desire to be snippy and rude. Just because she lived by a certain code didn’t mean the rest of the world did.

Forcing herself to remain civil for the sake of her friendship with Lucie—and to prove she had complete control over her emotions—she said, “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Jackson,” and grabbed the strap to her carry-on, still perched on his shoulder.

His hand covered hers as he leaned in, eclipsing the sun and most of the world around her. When he spoke, his voice dropped an octave and the low vibrations snaked their way through her body, hitting every erogenous zone she didn’t even know she had. “You don’t sound all that pleased, V.” He paused, his gaze flicking to her mouth a moment before offering a sinful smile. “Come with me.”

Unbidden images of hot Hawaiian sex with Jackson flashed in her mind at warp speed, messing with the signals from her brain to the rest of her body. Certain parts of her clenched tight with need, while others, like her knees and jaw, slackened with lust.

Either her desperation for some adult one-on-one time was worse than she thought or this guy affected her way more than she could safely handle. Thankfully, both problems had only one solution. Squash, squash, squash!

“Good-bye, Jackson.”

Grabbing her bags, she took off in the opposite direction. Luckily, a cab waited only a few yards away. She’d already put her things in the trunk and was reaching for the door handle when he called out after her.

“I’ll just meet you in the lobby of the resort, then.”

Civility dissolved in the acid now churning in her gut. Did he take some sort of sick pleasure in aggravating the hell out of people, or was he really just that clueless? Unfortunately for him, she assumed the former.

Turning around slowly, she addressed the man now leaning against a large concrete column, hands in his pockets, an easygoing smile gracing his face. “That won’t be necessary. I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.”

He pushed himself off and sauntered over into her personal space. He smelled like the island itself, of salt water and sun.

“I have no doubt of that, princess,” he said. “But there’s one little detail you’re not aware of.”

“And what’s that?”

“The celebrity wedding planner Reid hired insists that for any destination wedding, the couple needs to be on location a week beforehand to meet with him and go over all the arrangements.”

“I know that. Why do you think I came down this early? I know Lucie’s tastes well enough to do this with my eyes closed.”

He didn’t even acknowledge her statement. “And due to the celebrity clientele at the Mau Loa, absolutely no one other than the guests registered to the room may claim the reservation.”

She cocked a hip out to the side and crossed her arms over her chest. “Then why am I down here if I can’t check in?”

“You can’t check in,” he said, “but Lucie can.”

She was about to ask him if he was smoking something, for all the sense he made, when the way he cocked his eyebrow in her direction suddenly made everything clear.

And so completely messed up.

“Oh no,” she said, hands rose to ward off his message already sinking its fangs into her brain. “Absolutely not.”

“Absolutely yes.”

“You’ve got the wrong girl, Maris. That’s lying, and I don’t lie. I’ll simply speak with the manager and explain the situation.” She turned and yanked the cab door open.

“That won’t work. Look, the Mau Loa is the most exclusive celebrity resort in all of Hawaii. You need at least three forms of ID just to check in. The rich and famous like it because, with the exception of hanging out of a helicopter, it’s impenetrable to the paparazzi and crazy fans when all they want is a little time to themselves and maybe a private wedding ceremony.”

Her heart beat rapidly, trying to escape the confines of her ribs. “Then I’ll stay in another hotel and go to the Mau Loa for the meetings with the planner,” she argued weakly.

A grouchy voice came from inside the cab. “Hey, lady, in or out? You’re costing me money!”

Jackson ducked in front of the open passenger window. “You want to say that again?”

“Yeah.” The driver clearly intended on setting things straight. But as soon as he saw the hulking figure curling his fingers into a fist and shooting him a dare with his eyes, the cabbie’s bravado fell dead away. Clearing his throat and shifting in his seat, he finished with, “I meant, take all the time you need.”

“Appreciate it.”

As Jackson straightened to loom over her again, Vanessa was reminded of the fact that he made a living from using his fists. And though she knew it was a sport and not the drunken beatings she’d grown up with, she had to wonder how much of that contained violence leaked into his personality.

“Sorry, where was I?”

Swallowing hard, she looked around, wanting to avoid the truth in those topaz eyes. She feared that, when everything was said and done, her closing arguments wouldn’t be enough to avoid participating in this charade. Thank God she could depend on her sharp tongue to act as her shield. “I’m pretty sure you were about to impart more of your infinite wisdom and explain why I can’t stay somewhere else for the week.”

“Lucky for you,” he said with one corner of his mouth hitched up, “I’ve decided to waive all infinite wisdom fees today.” She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms as he grabbed the top of the door with one hand. “The wedding planner is eccentric and known for dropping clients if he even suspects things aren’t on the up and up. If he finds out Lucie and Reid aren’t coming until the last minute, he’s liable to call it off. No planner, no wedding. And if there’s no wedding, Reid’ll have my balls, never mind the guilt trip we’ll be on with my sister for the next decade or so. Understand what I’m getting at here?”

Feeling deflated, she finally met his gaze and filled in the big, fat blanks. “You and I need to check in as Reid and Lucie in order to secure their wedding.”

“Bingo.”

Her mind raced, warring between helping her best friend and going against not only her occupational code of ethics but also one of her Rules. They’d been carved in stone and then traced with her blood since the day she made them. They kept her balanced. One could even say they were like her religion. And this wasn’t going to be one instance of one lie. This would be a whole week of lies. Of deceit. It didn’t matter to whom or for what reason.

Rule #6: Never indulge in the poison of lies. She’d had enough lies from her mom and stepdad growing up to last her five lifetimes. She excused lying about as much as she excused Hitler.

Tamping down her uneasiness over the situation, she focused on assessing it logically. “How do we even pull it off without IDs?”

“I have a connection at the resort who will help with check-in at least, so that part will be taken care of.”

“How do we explain why Lucie is staying at the resort while her fiancé stays off grounds?”

A devilish smile curled his lips. “Nice try. We don’t. We’ll be staying in the same bungalow together.”

“With two bedrooms.”

“The reservation is already made for a premier one bedroom. There would be no reason for a bride and groom to request two. But no one will know that ‘Reid’ is sleeping on the couch.”

Think, Nessie! “What happens at the end of the week when we’re not the ones walking down the aisle?”

“There’s another wedding on Saturday that’s higher profile. A-list celebrity trumps former UFC light heavyweight champ. According to my connection, the planner needs to attend that one so he, and therefore the resort, won’t know that the people who made the decisions aren’t the ones actually getting married.”

With as smooth as he countered her every issue, she wondered if he made a habit of deceiving others. And why did that notion disappoint her so much? “Well, you certainly have all your bases covered,” she said tightly. Squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin, she added, “Fine, I’ll do it for Lucie. But I’m still taking a cab.”

Jackson’s face lit up like he’d just been told he won a harem of Playboy bunnies. “That’s fine. We’ll have plenty of quality time this week. See you soon, pupule wahine.”

“Poo-poo-lay wah-hee-nay? What on earth does that mean?”

Winking, he said, “It’s a Hawaiian endearment.”

“Lovely.” She’d meant that to sound sarcastic, but it came out closer to reverent. So what if she thought the native language was pretty? And so what if it had been such a long time since anyone had called her anything other than Nessie or Counselor? She certainly didn’t need to hear endearments from the likes of Jackson Maris.

Vanessa climbed in the cab and pulled the door closed, doing her level best to ignore the deep laughter floating through the open window as they pulled away from the curb.

Drawing in a deep, calming breath, she met the cabbie’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Take me to the Mau Loa, please. But first let’s hit a drive-through. I’m in no hurry, and I’m starving.”

…

I am such an a*shole.

Jackson shoved his hands in his pockets and watched the strangest, most striking woman he’d ever met leave him in a cloud of exhaust fumes. Though he could think of several reasons to look forward to spending time with her this week—full lips, emerald eyes, silky red curls, and a body to make a man sit up and beg, to name a few—it wasn’t her appearance that had him revved up.

It was her firecracker personality.

He was used to women with laidback attitudes. Easy to charm, easy to please. Vanessa MacGregor was obviously neither of those. And while he had no intention of giving up, she’d come very close to making him tap out. That intrigued the hell out of him.

But that was no excuse for the B.S. he’d just fed her about needing to check in as their friends.

Walking back to his car, he ran over their conversation in his mind. He hadn’t expected his first meeting with his sister’s best friend to go down that way. He did feel like a jerk for being so late. It was a testament to the lax way of life he’d adopted over the last decade that he hadn’t considered it would be something he couldn’t make up for with a little charm and an offer of lunch.

It might have been forgivable—eventually—if he hadn’t dropped the little marriage-ruse bomb on top of it.

When Reid called him to explain the situation and ask for his help, Jackson had planned on picking her up, getting her settled into the Mau Loa (the part about him being able to get her past their tight security policies had been true, at least), and then returning to his regularly scheduled program until the wedding at the end of the week. Reid had mentioned how eccentric the planner was, but the plan had never been for her to pose as Lucie. Jackson had kind of made that part up in the heat of the moment.

He’d been blindsided by her crazy Jekyll and Hyde allure. And then she’d rebuffed and dismissed him like a puppy who’d dropped a ball at her feet when she wasn’t in the mood to play catch. He was beyond fascinated. He wanted to open her up and see what made her tick. Hence his sudden and inexplicable need to spend as much time as possible with her over the next week. Jax was fairly certain most of his blood had drained from his head to a more southerly area when he’d spouted that bullshit.

Realizing he now had the pleasure of breaking the news of his deception to Vanessa and almost certainly earning himself a kick to the nuts, he got into his Jeep, made his way out of the airport, and reluctantly headed for the resort.

He’d only lived in Oahu for about twelve years, but it felt like a lifetime. His twenty-three years living in Sun Valley, Nevada, was little more than a collection of faded childhood memories. Whether due to the passing of time or his conscious effort to forget a huge chunk of those years, he wasn’t sure. Either way, despite missing his sister like crazy, he was happiest on the island. Growing up, he’d always felt like a cog in the wrong wheel.

It wasn’t because he hadn’t been blessed with a great life. His parents had been wonderful people who’d loved him and his sister with everything they were and made sure they wanted for nothing. He’d had a great childhood.

It was the start of his adulthood when everything had gone to hell—starting with the accident that killed his parents shortly after his graduation.

Then it stayed that way for more than five years. But as soon as he’d been able to get away, he’d packed up and left for Hawaii. It was as far as he could go without leaving the good ole U.S. of A. His destination choice had been more for genealogical reasons than geographical, but the literal distance sometimes helped with the mental distance he’d needed.

Once he settled on Oahu in his modest beachfront cottage with the ocean in front and the mountains in back, he’d joined Team Titan, the best MMA training camp on the island. With his career off on the right foot and some changes in the way he viewed life, he felt free and happy for the first time since before the accident.

Remembering the weeks that followed their deaths, Jackson’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. Deep loss and sadness mixed with anger and betrayal to form a volatile riptide of emotions that threatened to pull him under. Taking a deep breath, he held the car steady with his knee and released his hold with deliberate slowness.

The rare tension in his body was a reminder that nothing good ever came from dwelling on the bad. He contemplated the surfboard riding snug on the top of his Jeep and wished he could head back to the beach to let the waves pound his muscles and memories back into submission. But his usual therapy would have to wait.

Navigating the winding road down the coast, he focused on the warm, salty air whipping around him, letting it center him as the natural elements of the island always did.

A few minutes later he pulled into the elaborate drive of the Mau Loa. Towering palm trees of identical height alternated with elegant streetlamps along the sides of the semicircular road that arced around a massive five-tiered fountain. After parking in the guest lot, Jax headed for the lobby to make sure everything was in order and wait for Vanessa’s arrival.

Behind the front desk, a young woman issued keys to a couple and instructed a porter where to deliver their luggage before sending them off with a smile and customary “Aloha.”

When she caught sight of Jackson, her smile transformed from the customer-service kind to one of pure joy. She was beautiful and petite with the bronze skin of the natives and dark chocolate eyes that danced over his body. A blue hibiscus flower peeked from the long, black curtain of hair behind her left ear. She whispered something to the other girl working, then came out from behind the counter to greet him.

“Hey, Jilli.”

With a lighthearted laugh, she stepped in to him and wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed him tightly. He returned her affection with a hug around her slim waist. After a few moments, she pulled back on a contented sigh.

“Aloha, Jackie. It’s good to see you.”

He screwed up his face at the nickname she used specifically because he hated it. Or at least pretended to hate it. “It’s good to see you, too, gorgeous. How’ve you been?”

Jilli laid her best puppy-dog eyes on him. “How’ve I been since you broke my heart, you mean?”

The woman was so full of it. She was a newlywed and madly in love with her husband, a fighter from another camp on the island. Jax respected him as a fighter and as someone who did right by Jilli. The man treated her like royalty.

“Something tells me your hubby would take personal offense to that, and I happen to like my teeth the way they are.”

Chuckling, she gave up the pretense. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. So where’s your guest of honor?”

“Thanks again for doing this, Jilli. And assuming she doesn’t stop off to hire some thug to take me out, she’ll be here soon.”

Jilli crossed her arms. “You just met the girl. What could you possibly have done to upset her already?”

“I think the question is what didn’t I do.”

A devious grin spread over her face. “Ooh, this sounds good. Come on,” she said, slipping out of his embrace to grab his hand and drag him away from the counter. When they were far enough away from possible eavesdroppers, she stopped him. “Okay, tell me what happened.”

Jackson barely suppressed a groan as he told her the story of how he started with the minor infraction of arriving late, moved on to the misdemeanor of being pushy, and ended with the moral felony of lying his ass off for his own selfish reasons.

When he finished, Jilli’s expression of pure shock was as effective as a mother’s scolding. He crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “I know. I f*cked up. I’ll apologize and tell her the truth when she gets here, okay?”

“I think that’s a very good idea. Just take it easy on her, Champ. She’s probably exhausted from the trip.” Lighting up, she added, “Hey, you still have some clothes in your locker in the break room. Why don’t you change into something a little less surfer boy? It might help her take you more seriously. You know, like the rest of us adults.”

“Very funny. Fine, I suppose it won’t kill me to play grownup for a while.”

Jackson kissed her on the cheek and thanked her yet again for helping him with getting Vanessa past the strict policies that would normally have prevented her from checking in.

“You know I’d do anything for you, Jackie. Now get going,” she said, patting his cheek before returning to the lobby.

Grabbing some clothes out of the employee locker he sometimes used, Jax crossed to the small private bathroom. He’d just changed into a pair of cargo shorts when his cell vibrated on the sink. Not even bothering to check caller ID, he shoved the phone between his ear and shoulder as he picked up the white linen shirt.

“Yeah,” he barked into the receiver.

“Jax.”

“Reid, my man, how’s my baby sis? Any better?”

“Unfortunately, not yet. These things can last a few days until her body gets rid of all the bad shit in her system or whatever.” Jackson could practically feel the tension coming through the phone from his oldest friend. “Seeing her like this and not being able to help her makes me want to throttle something.”

“Yeah, I know that feeling.” Jackson remembered the month when Lucie had pneumonia her sophomore year. The constant worry had driven him insane. To help break some of the tension, Jax took a jab at Reid. “Maybe you can pound some clay into submission to get it out of your system.”

“Listen, a*shole, just because I replaced fighting with sculpting doesn’t mean I can’t still whoop your ass. Did everything go all right with Vanessa?”

Jax shrugged the shirt on and began buttoning it. “You know how I am with the ladies, Andrews.” A statement that answered absolutely nothing.

“Yeah, I do. So how’s your ego handling the rejection?”

Okay, that was freaky. Either Vanessa had called and ratted him out to Lucie—which he didn’t think she’d do, knowing how sick Lu was—or the woman had a rep as a man-eater a mile long. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Things couldn’t have gone better.”

“You’re almost as bad of a liar as Lucie, you know that?”

Jax thought about the lies he’d told not even half an hour ago and muttered, “Tell that to Vanessa.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Jax leaned back against the bathroom sink and crossed his arms over his chest. “Hey, speaking of which, is she super religious or something?”

“Not that I know of, why?”

“Lying came up in conversation, and she was pretty adamant that she never does it. Like, ever. So if it’s not religion, what’s her deal?”

“It’s one of her lucky seven rules.”

Walking back into the break room area, he stopped to throw his discarded clothes in the locker and grab a bottle of water before heading out to the lobby. “Like the Golden Rule?”

“More like her own set of commandments minus the ‘thou shalt nots.’ According to Lu, she never breaks them.”

“Never, huh? Interesting.”

His friend’s sigh came through the phone, loud and clear. “Listen, Maris, if you know what’s good for you, you won’t mess around with her. I’ve seen her in action. Confident men approach her and by the time she’s through with them, they’re licking their wounds in the corner of the bar. And you’re not even close to her type.”

He smiled at the image Reid painted. “Well, I was planning on seeing how you like it when I seduce your sister, but seeing as you don’t have one, my dating calendar is pretty open this week. Besides, it sounds like fun.”

Yeah, like in the way trying to escape the lion enclosure at the zoo with steaks tied around his waist sounded like fun to the normal man. Then again, Jax never claimed to be normal.

“Hey,” Reid countered, “you and I both know that once the smoke cleared—and my nose healed—you were glad it was me with Luce and not someone else.”

The man had a point there.

“And secondly, I’m not f*cking around, Jax. I need you to make sure everything goes smoothly out there. You told me you have a way of getting around the reservation policies, so focus on that. I refuse to tell Lu her dream wedding—the one she deserved to begin with instead of the joke of a ceremony that piece of shit gave her last time—is a no-go. You feel me?”

“Yeah,” Jax answered with steel in his voice. “I feel you.” Being reminded of the a*shole who screwed his sister over years ago was all he needed to leave the joking behind. “There’s no way in hell I’m letting my sister’s wedding get canceled.”

He wanted to guarantee it wouldn’t get canceled. As part owner of the Mau Loa, he had that kind of power, but due to his contract, he couldn’t tell Reid or anyone else about his role. Several years ago, as a way of securing his future, Jax became a financial backer of the resort. Since his focus was on his fighting career and he didn’t want the notoriety that came with owning high-end resorts in Hawaii, he requested to be a silent partner. Jilli knew only because she’d stumbled upon the contract while cleaning his place when they were dating. He’d sworn her to secrecy, and she hadn’t let him down yet.

Jax took up residence against the front desk as he cracked his water open and winked at Jilli. He chugged the ice-cold liquid, letting Reid vent in his ear about all the bodily harm he’d impose on Jax if shit went south, just as Vanessa’s cab rounded the semicircular drive and pulled to a stop at the entrance. Though he’d just drank almost the whole bottle, as soon as the leggy redhead stepped from the car, his mouth went bone dry, his adrenaline kicked in, and somewhere he imagined a ring girl walking around holding up a giant card with ROUND 1 painted in bold block letters.

Right then he made the decision to wait until she’d had a chance to settle in and relax before telling her the truth. Maybe he’d take her for a drink and tell her then. Surely she’d be less likely to hate him once she felt the sun on her face, the sand in her toes, and the booze in her veins. Right?

“No worries, man,” he assured his friend. “I’ve got everything under control.”

Reid’s curse wasn’t very encouraging. “Why do I have a bad feeling about this?”

“No idea. Gotta go.” Jax hit the end button as he pushed off the counter. “My fiancée’s here.”

…

Closing the trunk after extracting her bags, the driver accepted her money and hurriedly returned to his cab without so much as an “Aloha” before peeling away. She coughed from the exhaust and picked up her things to move onto the curb. Weren’t the island people supposed to be friendly and accommodating? Although, she supposed after making him wait for her at the airport and then stop at a little café so she could get a quick bite to eat, the guy had a right to be a little agitated. Still, it’s not like he hadn’t been duly compensated for his time.

What a day. Stranded at the airport, informed she needed to change identities, and stuck with the only surly cabbie in all of Oahu. Not exactly how she imagined her first few hours in one of the most beautiful, carefree places on Earth.

But, she amended, those had been things she couldn’t control. What she could control was how she dealt with her current situation and—

“Hello, sweetheart.”

—him.

Taking a deep breath, Vanessa turned and regarded the thorn in her side. He’d changed out of his surfer duds into something more appropriate for a man who’d supposedly just flown over from the continental forty-eight. His khaki cargo shorts paired with a lightweight white button-up and sandals said casual-and-understated.

So why the hell was she hearing sexy-and-overdressed?

Vanessa’s pulse jumped and goose bumps broke out over her skin despite the balmy weather. Standing as close as he was, he towered over her. The man was simply massive. How in the world did someone so big share the same DNA as her tiny friend?

Getting off to a rocky start with the man didn’t make her blind. He was easily one of the most gorgeous men she’d ever seen. Too bad he so obviously broke several of her rules. Hell, if she were being honest, she’d bet he broke almost all of them.

Jackson bent down to pick up her duffel bag, and on the way back up, leaned in to press a warm kiss to her cheek. At the unexpected intimacy, she sucked in a breath and almost pulled away, but his soft words of warning held her in place. “Remember who we are here. If you accuse me of sexual harassment, there’s a good chance it’ll blow our cover.”

His low chuckle both liquefied her insides and made her blood boil. His infectious smile tempted the corners of her mouth to lift up the slightest bit, though she ordered them to hold firm. To save face, she went with it, widening her grin and telling him in the sweetest voice she could muster, “Don’t worry about me, darling, I have stellar acting skills in the courtroom. But if I were you, I’d worry about how thick you lay it on, because if you take advantage of this situation, you’ll have to worry about what I’ll do to your manhood once we’re behind closed doors instead.”

He raised his left eyebrow, which had a jagged white scar running diagonally through it, giving his good looks a rakish edge. Though she knew her appearance was nothing short of atrocious at this point, his eyes skimmed over her body like she’d been dipped in his favorite candy. Maybe the aloof Prince of Tides wasn’t as unaffected by her as he’d like her to think.

“Looking forward to it, princess,” he said, smirking in amusement and giving her a wink before walking into the lobby.

What was wrong with this guy? He should be backing down, talking her down, or at the very least, toning it down. One of those downs. That’s what any normal male would do when his junk was threatened. Maybe he was into masochism. That thought perked her up. A closet masochist would effectively douse any sparks of desire that may or may not be going off somewhere deep inside her every time he turned those light eyes on her.

Feeling better already, Vanessa grabbed the handle of her suitcase and wheeled it behind her along the tiled entrance of the lobby. Jackson stood at the front desk speaking with an exotically pretty woman who handed him an envelope of paperwork and two key cards with a smile that probably won her customer service awards.

“There’s my lovely bride,” Jackson announced as he put an arm around her waist and pulled her into his side.

“Bride-to-be, dear,” she said with a fake look of happiness frozen on her face. “I’m not officially your bride yet.” Then, before she could stop herself, she added, “And anything can happen between now and then.”

As the lunatic holding her laughed, the woman behind the counter assessed her in the way women size up their competition. Not that it was obvious, but Vanessa noticed the split-second crack in her Employee of the Month persona before picking up where she’d left off.

“Welcome to the Mau Loa, Miss Miller. It’s a pleasure to have you and Mr. Andrews at our resort. If there’s anything we can do to make your stay more enjoyable, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you…” She glanced at the nametag that claimed her as the reservations manager. “Jillian. I’m sure everything will be fine. In regards to meeting with the wedding coordinator, can you please tell me when my—”

Jackson cleared his throat and gave her waist a squeeze. She barely stopped an eye roll.

“—our first appointment is?”

“Of course. Let me check that for you.” After a few moments clacking her nails over the keyboard, she said, “You’re scheduled to meet with him at four o’clock this afternoon in the Honu Café.”

“Great,” Jackson said with a light slap on the counter, as though it signaled the end of their discussion. “Now, Jilli, if you don’t mind, it’s been a long trip so I’d like to get Lucie to our bungalow so she can freshen up. She normally doesn’t look quite so haggard.”

The air from Vanessa’s lungs slammed out like he’d just punched her between the shoulder blades. Was he serious? Her pulse spiked and her need to fire back clouded her better judgment—and opened her big, fat mouth. “Well, at least I can fix my problem with a shower, darling. You need a tiny blue pill to fix yours.”

Jackson barked out a strange combination of choking and laughter, which he tried to bring under control behind his fist. Before she could stop, think, and regret the words she’d just put in her best friend’s mouth, she snatched the envelope and keys off the counter. “Why don’t you go make friends while I freshen up for you? I’ll probably be a while, so I’d take my time if I were you.”

Catching the eye of the woman who stood with equal parts shock and delight on her face, Vanessa gave her the best apologetic look she could muster. “I’m so sorry. I’m under a lot of stress right now with the wedding and all, so I’m not quite myself. Thank you so much for your help.”

Without a backward glance, Vanessa spun on her wedge sandals and strode in the opposite direction of the entrance, hoping it would lead her toward her bungalow. Stepping into the sunshine, she found a gigantic pool and several hot tubs surrounded by lush palm trees and occupied lounge chairs. A waterfall cascaded down a large rock face on one side, bringing a bit of the island inside the resort parameters.

As she followed one of the paths that led her around the more touristy areas, she peered at the guests through the cover of her sunglasses. Though she couldn’t be sure, she swore she saw Reese Witherspoon with her husband in the pool and someone who looked a lot like Alec Baldwin standing by the bar. Lucky for them she was too exhausted to be even remotely starstruck and kept on walking, eager to find her destination.

The Mau Loa wasn’t like the other commercial resorts on the island. It didn’t have hundreds of rooms in a gigantic hotel-style building. Instead, it housed several dozen private bungalows spread throughout the property. Essentially small homes in the lap of luxury surrounded by paradise. Not too shabby.

It only took her a few minutes to find her bungalow on the outermost boundary, making it one of the more private houses. Relieved, she quickly used her key and entered the white stucco home. The inside looked like something out of a travel magazine. Large, open, and breezy, everything in white or muted blues to match the ocean only a stone’s throw away from her front lanai.

The main room consisted of a cozy living area with inviting couches like clouds plucked out of the sky. The wall on the left was made entirely of sliding glass doors that opened onto a small yard, complete with kidney-shaped pool, hot tub, small bar, outdoor shower, and hammock, surrounded by an eight-foot-tall privacy fence. The small but fully stocked kitchen sat off to the right of the living area, separated by a breakfast bar and stools.

Vanessa crossed the room and opened the door on the far wall to find the most romantic bedroom she’d ever seen. A wispy canopy draped the sides of a gigantic four-poster bed and rippled in the sea breeze sweeping in from the open French doors that also led to the private yard.

Just then a porter arrived with her bags. She wasted no time grabbing fresh clothes and hopping in the shower. She couldn’t remember the last time hot water felt so good and the orange honeysuckle scent of all her bathing products relaxed and invigorated her at the same time. After toweling off and slipping into a pair of cotton shorts and a T-shirt, she headed straight for the bed.

“Caviar dreams and champagne wishes,” she whispered with a smile before falling back on the cloud they called a mattress…and dozed off.

A knock on the door startled her awake. Checking the time on her watch, she relaxed. About thirty minutes had passed, which was a pretty good power nap. She definitely felt more refreshed.

The knock sounded again. If there was a God it’d be a waiter holding one of those yummy blue drinks she’d seen everywhere.

“Coming,” she called, hopping from the bed. Yanking the door open, her excitement fizzled. “Oh. It’s you.”

“Tiny blue pill? So classic.” Jackson put a hand against his heart as he stepped over the threshold. “It hurt, but it was classic.”

She closed the door behind him a little harder than necessary. “Yeah, well, you won’t think it’s so classic when the news about our Lucie and her rich and famous fiancé being on the rocks ends up in the tabloids. Which will be all your fault, by the way.”

He leaned a shoulder against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. “How will it be my fault?”

“Because!” She poked him in the chest. “You got me all fired up with your insults. Reid would never have said something like that about Lucie. He worships the ground she walks on. But it’s obvious you wouldn’t have the first clue as to how to treat a woman, so how we’re going to pull this off for an entire week is beyond me. Then again, when the girl from the front blabs about our little production back there, we’ll probably be thrown out on our asses, and then we won’t have to worry about it.”

She started to turn, but he held her arm captive, preventing her from storming off. “First of all, Jilli isn’t going to tell anyone anything.”

“Oh really. And why is that?”

“Because she’s the contact I told you about. She’s in on the whole thing.”

That little tidbit zipped through her brain, hitting all the necessary compartments needed to read between the lines. Her eyes widened. “So we didn’t have to…”

“Make such a big production?” he said with a wide smile. She noticed for the first time he had shallow dimples hidden beneath the short beard growth, adding to his panty-melting charm. Why were all the a*sholes so damn gorgeous? “Yeah, I know, but I figured we should get in the practice. Besides, now we’ve gotten our first fight out of the way.”

“Oh, you have no idea—”

“Secondly,” he said, interrupting her would-be rant as he dropped his amusement as easily as removing a mask, “contrary to your belief, I know exactly how to treat a woman. In every aspect.”

The charming, good-natured man she’d met had been obliterated by the serious one now standing before her. Vanessa had a feeling that this man—a man who could no doubt grant a lover’s every desire or conjure an enemy’s every nightmare—was his true self.

Something had stolen the air from the room. Topaz eyes burned into her, heating her body from the inside out and creating warmth between her legs from the suggestion his words lent. Words. Where were her words? She was never speechless. She argued for a living, for shit’s sake.

This man is Dangerous. Capital D intended.

Considering she wasn’t planning on going toe-to-toe with him in a cage any time soon, the threat of danger wasn’t to her physical person—unless earth-shattering orgasms had the potential to land her in a hospital—but to her emotional sanity.

Then, like the wind changing directions after a storm, he released her arm and the intensity and brought back the happy. Just. Like. That. “Now that we have that out of the way, I’d like to take you to an apology lunch.”

She had to tell her brain to stop analyzing his peculiar personality switches and fast-forward to his newest attempt at taking control of their situation. Clearing her throat, she smoothed her hands down her shirt and crossed her arms. “I’ve already eaten.”

“Okay, lunch is out. We’ll go get a drink on the beach.”

Damn, that sounded good. Not to mention there was a tiny part of her that wanted to know what he’d be like in a public setting, now that she knew the whole thing with Jilli was just his twisted way of amusing himself. Bastard.

“Sorry, but I have things to do. But don’t let me stop you. You should go enjoy yourself.”

He bit the inside of his cheek as his eyes narrowed in contemplation. “Reid said you’d be a tough opponent.”

“Reid’s a very smart man.”

“Come on, give a guy a chance to atone for his sins. You had to deal with a lot of my shit today. Let me make it up to you. We’ll have some drinks and start fresh.”

She’d definitely earned a drink. Hell, she’d earned several, in her opinion. Maybe if she let him buy the drink, he’d back off the rest of the week and she wouldn’t have to constantly avoid the distraction he was so capable of being. “Fine. We’ll go for one drink and call it square. Deal?”

He let loose that spectacular smile, accentuating the strong lines of his stubble-covered jaw. “Deal.” He clapped his hands together and made for the door. She followed him and then stopped as soon as he walked onto the porch.

“I’ll change and meet you at the bar in ten.” And with that, she closed the door on his too-handsome-for-his-own-good face.

Brushing her hands off from a job well done, she started to turn away when she heard him yell, “Why don’t you go ahead and get changed? I’ll meet you at the bar.” She could just barely make out the muffled sound of laughter as he walked away.

…

The Moana Bar sat in the center of the Mau Loa’s pristine beach, less than fifty yards from the ocean. An open square bar in the middle of the sand with stools on all four sides. Like most things in Hawaii, it sported a polished wood structure under a thatched roof with strings of lanterns to act as beacons in the night to thirsty guests. Surrounding that, small tables with umbrellas were scattered in the sand for patrons to sit and eat at or people-watch while they sipped their drinks.

The atmosphere was a fusion of native and tourism: the crescendo of the ocean waves rushing toward the shore, the conversations and laughter of the resort’s patrons, and the raucous antics of the bartenders entertaining with spinning bottles of liquor like scenes from Cocktail.

Jackson stood at the bar, enjoying the Heineken in his hand and the memory of Vanessa’s reaction to the unnecessary act they’d put on for Jilli. A reaction he’d cut short with his declaration of knowing how to treat a woman, and by the look on her face, it had set things spinning in her head she did not want there. Which made it all the more fun.

Of course, that fun was about to come to a screeching halt. Once he plied her with a drink or two, he needed to tell her the truth. They’d talk to the planner, explain the situation, and Vanessa would be free to make the wedding arrangements and be herself for the rest of her stay.

While despising him and avoiding him like the plague.

Jax took a swig of his beer and wanted to kick his own ass. He wouldn’t be in this situation if he’d have just shown up on time like he was supposed to. Then again, if he hadn’t been late he probably wouldn’t have seen the spitfire side of her that intrigued him in the first place, compelling him to spew lies so she couldn’t dismiss and avoid him for the entire week. Of course, this was the most asinine thing he’d done since thinking he could still spar when he forgot his cup. Now he’d be damned if he told her the truth and damned if he didn’t. F*ck.

With all the noise, there was no way he’d be able to hear Vanessa coming, which made it all the more odd when he felt compelled to look over his shoulder the moment she approached the table area.

Winding her way through the erratic seating arrangement, she swung her hips to avoid chairs in her path. Either that, or to make every man in a fifty-yard radius forget his point mid-sentence.

Emerald scraps of cloth clung to her breasts with nothing but a gold ring nestled in her cleavage to hold the sides together. The purpose of the white netted skirt tied low around her hips was a mystery. Although it hid the general design and cut of her bottoms, it slashed diagonally to the mid-thigh of her left leg, leaving the creamy expanse of her right leg prominently on display.

As she approached the bar, Jackson assessed her over the top of his mirrored shades and let out a soft whistle. “You vacationing or entering the swimsuit competition in the Miss America pageant?”

Sliding onto the stool next to where he stood, she began, “You see, Jackson—”

“My friends call me Jax.”

Vanessa pushed her tortoise shell sunglasses up on her head and regarded him with a twinkle in her green eyes. “Ah, like those annoying pointy little things for kids that always seem to be underfoot.” She nodded as though all the world’s mysteries suddenly made sense. “I so get that.”

Damn, he liked her spunk. “I’ll just bet you do,” he said, giving her a huge smile he didn’t have to fake.

“As I was saying, Jackson,” she emphasized with a saccharin-sweet grin, “a girl should always look her best. She never knows when she might meet a handsome stranger at a beach bar who can rescue her from her lunch date.”

“Drink date.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Semantics.”

Gesturing for the bartender, she ordered herself a Blue Hawaiian, or as she called it, “That big blue thingy I keep seeing.” How adorably tourist.

“Unfortunately, you can’t get rid of me. How would it look if Lucie left Reid to cavort around the island with another man the week of her wedding?” He didn’t bother mentioning he planned on leaving her after they shared their drinks and he came clean about his impulsive fibbing streak.

“Sadly, you’re right. But next week, while Reid and Lucie are enjoying their honeymoon on a Mediterranean cruise, I’ll still be here and incredibly available.”

Jax’s gut twisted at the images of a sexy Vanessa being fawned over by every man within a square mile. His brain told him it was none of his damn business how she spent her vacation, and logically speaking, he knew it was right. Unfortunately, he’d always been a man who followed his gut.

Her Blue Hawaiian arrived, and she didn’t waste any time sampling it. Lifting the large bowled glass, she sipped the electric blue liquid, made a sound of approval that tightened his groin, then licked the sugar on her lips she’d lifted from the rim.

Clearing his throat to disguise a groan, he ordered a second Heineken and then killed his first. By now, the idea of her spending time with random locals was on its way to giving him an ulcer. His other half—the side he fully acknowledged was more caveman than gentleman—was trying to claw his way free.

Tamping down his irrational shit, he thanked the bartender for the new beer and kept things light. “You know, as your personal host, I feel I’d be shirking my responsibilities if I allowed a bunch of jerks to circle you like sharks around chum.”

“I’m sorry,” she said with a look of disbelief, “did you just refer to me as fish guts?”

“You are a lawyer.” Wink. Drink.

She laughed in the same way his buddy Corey did when they got into a good-natured pissing match about who was the better fighter. “Okay, Maris, I’m giving you fair warning.” She gestured back and forth between them. “When this is over with, I have every intention of finding some hot Hawaiian hunk to entertain me for a few days. And should you interfere in any way, shape, or form, I’ll be forced to hurt you.”

Chuckling, he removed his shades, set them on the bar, and leveled her with patronizing amusement. “You hurt me? That’s adorable; truly it is.” She opened her mouth to fire back, but he didn’t give her the chance. “I will say I’m glad you’ve decided to have fun with a local boy while you’re here, though.”

Her mouth closed and a small furrow creased her brow. He loved it when strategy worked.

Crossing his forearms on the bar, he slowly leaned toward her. Her exotic citrusy scent filled his lungs, the smell so intoxicating he resented the need to exhale. Trying to ignore the pang of desire, he lowered his voice and layered on the suggestive tone. “I’m local. Think I might be the man for the job?”

Staring up at him, her jaw slackened, opening her mouth a bit. Testing the waters, he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and let it drag itself free. Her eyes dropped and fixated, darkening with interest.

And Bingo was his name-o.

“I think that’s a yes, princess.” He allowed himself the satisfaction of a half smile before bringing his beer up for a victory sip.

Snapping out of her temporary trance, she let out an indignant huff. “Please. You have heat stroke if you think I’d even let you apply for the job.”

Laughing at her indignation, Jackson pried his eyes from Vanessa’s long enough to sign his tab. Points for him. It was a damn hard thing to accomplish. She was so different from the women he’d been around the last decade. Island girls typically had happy-go-lucky, easy-going, go-with-the-flow personalities. But she was full of opposites. Fire and ice. Both the calm and the storm.

And her eyes were the purest shade of green. They weren’t brownish green or hazel green. She turned her head in his direction, rewarding him with the very things that mesmerized him, even if it was in the form of a glare. He looked for the telltale, barely visible rim revealing them as counterfeits…and found none.

“You don’t wear contacts,” he stated.

A feathery eyebrow hitched up her forehead. “You say that like you’re surprised.”

“I am. Usually color like that only comes from cosmetic lenses. I’ve never seen authentic eyes the shade of yours before.” A small sigh accompanied a roll of said beautiful eyes. Amused at her assumption, he added, “That wasn’t a line.”

“You’ve been throwing innuendos at me since the airport, Jackson. Why wouldn’t I think that was a line?”

He dropped one arm from the counter and turned his entire body toward her. She was taller than most women—he guessed somewhere around five-nine, five-ten—but at six-four he still had a huge advantage. Especially since she was sitting and he wasn’t.

Letting his gaze slowly trail over every exposed inch, he made her wait, not saying a word until he’d thoroughly soaked up every detail. Alabaster skin and smooth curves on a willowy frame. Breasts that filled out her bikini top to perfection with tight nipples pushing against…and this train of thought was nothing but a hard-on wreck waiting to happen. His cargo shorts were in serious danger of taking on a new shape.

Dragging his eyes back up, he met the emerald pools and told her the God’s honest truth. “I don’t use lines. I use compliments. And telling a woman something she already knows isn’t a compliment. You have to tell her true things she doesn’t know.”

“Okay,” she said, “I’ll bite. What would you say to me?”

He tucked a stray curl whipping across her face behind her ear, then slowly trailed his finger down the long column of her throat as his eyes followed. “I’d tell you how I think seeing the curves of your silhouette against a Hawaiian sunset would be absolutely breathtaking.”

She reached up and pulled his hand away, but when he met her gaze she must have forgotten her purpose and their hands stayed clasped together between them. He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles just once and spoke again. “I’d tell you you’re the most intriguing woman I’ve ever met, and I’m dying to discover what’s underneath that sexy confidence you wear so well.”

He lowered their hands and gently released hers. He waited for a verbal backlash, a scoff, anything that would prove he was seeing something that wasn’t really there. But she did none of those things. Simply sat there, stone still, her chest the only thing moving as she took in shallow breaths of the ocean air.

He’d affected her.

A burst of adrenaline kicked in from the small victory. Holding back a smile, he broke eye contact to give her a short reprieve, which she used right away to take several big sips of her cocktail while he drank his beer.

“So, V, tell me about yourself.”

“Your sister calls me Nessie. Most people do.”

“I know your ancestors hail from Scotland, what with that hair and last name and all, but you don’t look like an elusive aquatic dinosaur hiding in a loch to me. I’ll stick with V.”

“Strange,” she said in the sarcastic tone he was growing accustomed to from her. “Lucie never mentioned how incredibly annoying you are.”

She’s back, ladies and gentlemen.

“That’s a shame because it’s one of my finer qualities.” As he’d hoped, the ridiculous comment cracked a smile over her stoic face. “Back to the original topic, though: what’s your story?”

She fiddled with the bright blue paper umbrella hanging on the rim of her drink. “Nothing exciting. Just a big city girl who went to college in Nevada and became a lawyer.”

“You any good?”

“They don’t call me the Red Viper in the courtroom for nothing, sweetie.”

“I’ll just bet they don’t.”

“So now I spend all my time putting the bad guys away in big cages.” She pinned him with the look he was beginning to recognize as one that preceded any sort of dig on his person. “You know, kind of like you.”

Bingo. He’d have her figured out in no time. “I’m a bad guy in a big cage, huh?”

“You are a cage fighter, are you not?”

He smiled. “So what accounts for the ‘bad’ part?”

She finished her drink, dropped her sunglasses in place as she stood, and somehow managed to seem as though she looked down on him and not the other way around. “That has yet to be seen, Mr. Maris, but I have no doubt whatsoever that it’s the absolute truth. Thanks for the drink.”

The mixed comment of his bad nature and her speaking the truth was flippant at best, but because of his recent deception, it hit home a little too hard. That’s why, as she dismissed him for the fourth time in half as many hours, hips swaying like palm fronds in the breeze, he blurted out yet another thing that did absolutely nothing to correct the situation.

“Come swimming with me.”

She didn’t even pause in her steps. “Another time maybe.”

“Now’s as good a time as any, V.”

“Later, Jackson,” she said with a dismissive wave over her shoulder.

Yeah right. She didn’t intend on doing anything with him later.

Yet.

…

“Would you be interested in a deal, Counselor?”

Vanessa halted mid-retreat and bit the corner of her lip. A deal? Vaguely feeling like a mouse sniffing cheese in a trap, she turned and crossed her arms. Narrowing her eyes, she studied him, trying to figure out his angle, but he was impossible to read. Leaning back, elbows resting on the bar behind him, his face boasted that damn smile that melted her insides while he looked for all the world like he hadn’t a care. That was all she had to go on, and it told her absolute jack shit.

“What kind of deal?”

“If you come for a swim with me, I promise to not overact during the times we need to be a couple.”

She raised her chin and squared her shoulders. “And if I don’t?”

His smile morphed into a wicked grin. “I hope you enjoy public displays of affection.”

Desperate to keep her face from breaking into the smile it wanted to let through, she sucked her cheeks in just enough to bite down on them. The worst part was knowing that if it weren’t for her damn pride, Jackson would be charming the bikini bottoms off her right about now. Figuratively speaking, of course. She normally wasn’t such a sourpuss, but the whole situation—starting with the airport—had rubbed her the wrong way, and she was too stubborn to let it go just yet.

“Whaddaya say, V? Quaint couple or obnoxious newlyweds?”

“You can’t be serious.” Oh, he was serious all right. As a death sentence. She could read at least that much about him. Trying another tack, she said, “You’re not even in your suit.”

“Last I checked, the ocean didn’t have a dress code.” Starting at the top, he began unbuttoning his shirt, exposing several inches of gloriously tanned skin with each flick of his fingers. He kicked off his sandals, shrugged out of his shirt, and dropped it on the stool without ever taking his eyes from her. “Come swimming with me.”

Good Lord, he was stunning. Vanessa had dated plenty of guys, and some of them were in impeccable shape, but not one of them held a candle to the man standing in front of her. He looked like a bronzed god, all muscled and toned.

Broad shoulders framed a defined chest with dark, flat nipples she’d like to flick her tongue over. His torso, completely smooth and hair-free, lent complete access to the visual treat that were the hills and valleys of his abs. And those obliques that arrowed in a V to taper down to his— Oh, damn, snap out of it, Nessie.

“I could just thwart your attempts at affection, you know.” Holy shit, she couldn’t stop! A swim actually sounded amazing. Water had never looked so inviting. But for the life of her, she couldn’t accept the invitation without eliminating all the possible outs first.

“You could. But then people would get the impression Reid and Lucie were on the rocks before they even get hitched.” He winked. “What else you got?”

Nothing, that’s what. A big. Fat. Nothing. And if something deep inside her started jumping for joy, it was only because she wanted to wade into the Pacific waves. Not because she wanted to have fun with her best friend’s older brother.

“Fine, I’ll play it your way. I was planning on swimming later anyway, so all I’m doing is moving up my own plans.”

Untying the knot at her hip, she removed her sarong and crossed the few feet to where he stood. She tossed it over his head and kept walking past him toward the edge of the water, making sure that her hips swayed like a supermodel on a Paris catwalk. Looking over her shoulder, she saw the very thing she’d hoped for: Jackson, clutching her sarong and staring after her with an awestruck look on his face. She didn’t bother hiding her smug satisfaction when she called back, “Now who’s not ready for a swim?” and then dismissed him as she waded into the waves lapping at the beach.

The warm water felt heavenly, and the sand squished between her wriggling toes. Her long curls whipped around her face in the salty ocean breeze. Just as she tucked the sides behind her ears, a pair of muscled arms grabbed her from behind and yanked her off her feet. She squealed in protest and tried to squirm free, but her annoying assailant refused to listen to her pleas for release. Probably because she couldn’t stop herself from laughing as he splashed into deeper waters.

“Jackson, come on, put me down!”

“Not on your life, MacGregor. You’re a cruel woman teasing me like that, and you need to be punished.” Then he unceremoniously tossed her into an ebbing wave.

She sank under the surface, but then quickly pushed up from the bottom. As she sprang to her feet, the salty water streamed into her mouth and she spit it out, pushing the hair out of her face and taking in big gulps of air. It didn’t take her long to find the giant of a man standing a couple feet away, laughing his ever-loving ass off.

Narrowing her eyes, she sank back under the water, grabbed his ankles, and yanked them toward her as hard as she could before breaking through the top of the water…just in time to see the end of his backward fall. The ensuing splash drenched her again, but it didn’t wash away her smile as he resurfaced and used his hands to squeegee his face.

His look of surprise morphed into the evil grin of a predator homing in on his prey. Lowering his arms out to his sides, he flexed his fingers like he was preparing to draw his guns at high noon or ready himself for an epic takedown. Since he wasn’t wearing a hip holster with his cargo shorts, she assumed it to be the latter.

She started to back up, one slow step at a time. But every time she stepped back, he stepped forward. “Jackson, I only returned the favor. We’re even now.” Another step back. Another step forward. “Come on, what’s fair is fair, right?” Another step. A quick glance to gauge the distance to the safety of the bar. Damn it. Too far. And he knew it.

Mischief danced in his eyes, and the devil drew up the corners of his lips. The low rumble of his laughter made the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

“Jackson?”

“Run, little rabbit,” he said. “Run.”

Vanessa whispered a curse and spun around to make a break for the beach. An attempt that proved to be as futile as they’d both known it would be.

No sooner had she made it five feet than he growled and swept her up, hoisting her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Jackson Maris, you put me down right this instant!”

She watched the beach get farther and farther away as he plodded through the foaming waves, carrying her into deeper water yet again. “Are you listening to me?” Frustrated that he didn’t have the decency to answer her, she did the first thing that came to mind…she slapped his ass as hard as she could.

He stilled, his muscles tensing underneath her, making her instantly regret her action. “Did you just spank me?”

“Umm…”

With an effortless heft, he rearranged her in one fluid motion until he was cradling her in his arms so he could look her in the face. She kept her arms around his neck, since the chance of him suddenly dropping her was pretty high.

“That’s the first time anyone’s dared try that,” he said, sounding amused.

She didn’t doubt it. The image of this big, strong man getting spanked in any capacity was ludicrous enough to make her laugh, but she bit the inside of one cheek to hold it in. “Then you could probably use a little discipline.”

“You think so, huh?” She nodded. He looked up at the clear sky as though giving it some thought, then shook his head. “I disagree. However…” Bending his head close to hers, he leveled her with a look that warmed her in places it shouldn’t. And when he spoke, his words were coated in carnal promises. “I can give you spankings that’ll have you begging for more.”

Her breath caught in her throat as she lost herself to the picture in her mind. Tingling started from deep in her belly and spread to her extremities. He leaned in, so close they shared the same air. Oh, God, he was going to kiss her, and for the life of her, she couldn’t remember why it was a bad idea. Her fingers clenched behind his neck in anticipation.

The moment before their lips touched, he paused and said, “I’d be happy to show you what I mean later. But you’ll have to ask me nicely.”

Jackson couldn’t have shocked her any less if he’d slapped her in the face.

He drew back with that shit-eating grin he wore so well. He’d known exactly what he was doing. She’d bet he never even intended on kissing her. The heat of desire previously curling through her body now burned in her veins, boiling her blood in preparation for battle.

“Oh, you are so—”

Apparently he didn’t care because he tossed her back over his shoulder. She squealed from the momentary weightless feeling, followed by an oof when her stomach landed on his shoulder. “Before you get all pompous on me again, princess, you should think about my offer.” He ran a finger over the outline of her bikini, making her aware for the first time just how close her backside was to his face. She felt his warm breath against her skin.

“I promise you’ll like it, V.”

If she hadn’t heard the smartass smile behind his offer she would’ve already plotted the demise of his family jewels. But he didn’t have to know they were safe. “You can spank me if I get to shave your balls with a straight razor.” Then she added in a mocking tone, “I promise I won’t slip, Jax.”

His laugh rumbled in his chest. A moment later she found herself flying through the air yet again just before landing butt-first into the sea. This time, though, she’d been prepared and had taken a big breath. Once fully submerged, she turned over and swam underwater away from him until her lungs burned and she had to come up for air.

Spinning around to see how far she’d gone was pointless. Jackson had swum after her. “Okay, I concede,” she said, holding her hands up in resignation. “You win. Now will you please stop tossing me on my ass?”

“As long as you concede, yes, I’ll stop.”

“Good, because I have to go.”

“What are you talking about? We were just starting to have fun.”

She looked over at him and had to remind herself to keep breathing. The sun hitting the water trailing over his muscles made it look like diamonds dripped from his body. His cargo shorts, heavy with retained water, hung deliciously low on his hips, showing off that incredible V. He really was something to behold.

She gave herself a mental shake and continued walking back to their things at the bar. “Success comes from ninety percent work and ten percent play, and that,” she said, pointing to where he’d recently tossed her, “was my ten percent for the day.” Adjusting the back of her bottoms to ensure they weren’t skewed into a compromising position, she trudged toward the beach.

Aaaaaand Jackson followed. Naturally, she thought. This guy didn’t know the meaning of “quit while you’re ahead.”

“Is that one of your seven rules?”

Her feet glued themselves to where the sand met the sea and her head whipped around. “Excuse me?”

“You know, your rules that you follow or whatever.”

“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.”

He offered her a warm smile. “Mahalo.” Perfect. He’d made sure he was plenty early to prove to her he wasn’t a total slacker. He could be on time to something if he had to be. Hell, he was never late for training.

Leaning back against the wall, he put his hands in his pockets and thought about his afternoon with her. She’d accepted his deal, as he’d known she would, even though she claimed it was only because she wanted to and had nothing to do with his proposition. There was still a lot he didn’t know about Vanessa MacGregor, but one thing he knew for sure was that she hated losing control. She needed things to be on her terms at all times.

Unfortunately for her, even though he’d adapted to a much more laid-back way of life, he was still very used to being in control. However, when he consciously thought about it, control wasn’t something he needed. Outside of the cage and the bedroom, anyway. But old habits die hard, and raising a younger sister for five years made him accustomed to playing leader to Lucie’s follower.

Beyond that, he was used to women playing coy with him. They liked to think of themselves as hard to get, pulling all the strings and leading the guy along by the short-hairs. And he happily played along. To an extent. Then he flipped the switch and took hold of the reins. Especially during sex. He preferred to have the control. Well, perhaps “preferred” wasn’t the right word. It was more how he was hardwired.

But the women he’d been with hadn’t posed any sort of challenge. They were like sheep in wolves’ clothing. They liked to think they were tough, but when he crooked his finger, the ruse dropped and they followed his lead.

Vanessa was different. She didn’t merely pretend; she was a wolf. When he pushed, she pushed back. He never would’ve thought he’d be attracted to someone so strong-minded, but he couldn’t get her out of his head. She was like a ball of fire, ready to explode, and he was a pyromaniac who couldn’t bring himself to keep his distance. Time would tell what sort of havoc she would wreak. Until then, he had every intention of enjoying the fireworks.

A wry smile spread over his face as he remembered the way she threw her skirt on him and walked toward the water like she owned the very sand under her feet.

“I thought maybe you’d changed your mind.”

He’d been so wrapped up in his thoughts about her that he hadn’t even seen her approach. She looked beautiful in a sundress with large red hibiscus flowers splashed across a white background. Casual and graceful. “You mean you were hoping I’d changed my mind.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“You didn’t have to,” he said, offering an understanding smile. “That’s okay, I don’t blame you. I didn’t make things easy on you today. But I promise to be on my best behavior from now on.”

Her eyelashes nearly twined as she scrutinized him. “Why the change of heart?”

“Aren’t you going to comment on my punctuality?”

To his surprise she did that thing where she tried to stop herself from smiling by biting on her own cheek. It was quite possibly the most adorable thing he’d ever seen a woman do. At last she huffed a sigh and said, “All right, let’s go in. But don’t say anything. Just let me handle this, okay?”

He winked at her. “Whatever you say, darling.” Fat chance, honey.

Jackson held the door for her and followed her into the air-conditioned restaurant. It was one of the more casual eateries the resort offered, if you considered mahogany tables with fine china and centerpieces made of orchids in crystal vases casual.

“Aloha!” A cute girl at the hostess counter smiled like she’d never been so happy to see two people. “Table for two?”

Vanessa jumped in. “Actually, we’re here to meet with the wedding coordinator. Can you point us in the right direction?”

“Ah, yes! He told me you’d be arriving and to seat you right away. He should be here shortly.”

“Perfect, thank you.”

They followed her to a small table in the back with a RESERVED sign in the center. Taking the sign, the girl handed them menus, but Vanessa politely refused. “We won’t be eating now, but I’d love an iced tea, please.”

Their hostess eagerly nodded and looked to him. “Heineken, thanks.” Another nod and she was off.

“I like your sandals,” he said.

“My sandals?”

She turned her head and stuck a foot out to the side to examine them as though she’d forgotten what she wore.

Raising an eyebrow in his direction she asked, “Are you a women’s shoe expert in your off hours or something?”

“Hell no. I don’t have the first clue about fashion.”

Her brows drew together, causing her skin to squinch between them. It must be something she did often, probably while hard at work on cases. “Then what exactly is it you like about my current footwear?”

He paused as the waitress set their drinks in front of them, then said, “I appreciate how the heels accentuate your calves.”

She studied him with a bemused smile. “I’ve never had a man compliment my shoes based on how they make my legs look.”

“We’ve already established you’ve never been complimented properly. And Vanessa…” He leaned forward and stared into her gem-colored eyes until her mirth tapered off and her pulse leapt just under her jaw. “I could compliment you properly all night long.”

Sitting back, he raised his beer to his lips without breaking eye contact. Watching her watch him intrigued him, and he thought of all sorts of things he’d like for her to watch him do.

“Hi, hello, bonjour, and aloha!”

Jackson turned his head to see a thin reed of a man making his way to them, wearing a pair of white dress shorts and a Hawaiian shirt. He looked like a fashionable Gilligan without the white hat. The guy had an extra bounce in his step that indicated he was either extremely hyper or literally the happiest guy on the planet. He didn’t hesitate to hug Vanessa like they were long-lost friends. When he pulled back, he held one of her hands in both of his and sat across from Jackson.

He pointed to the nametag pinned to his breast pocket. “I know it looks like my name is Robért, but it sounds like someone commanding a grizzly in a canoe. Row, bear!” He giggled at a joke he’d no doubt told to thousands of tourists. “Row-bear, get it? My mother’s French, but I was born here, which explains both the strange pronunciation and my lack of a French accent.”

Vanessa echoed the man’s giggle. If it were strictly for Robért’s benefit, she was very convincing. Jackson, on the other hand, dragged a hand over his mouth to wipe the amusement from his face at the guy’s over-the-circus-top personality.

“Anyhoo,” Robért continued, “enough about me. It is so nice to finally meet the both of you. We’re going to be the best of friends this week as I make all your dreams come true. We have so much to do before you walk down the aisle, so let’s get crack-a-lackin.”

As Robért chatted on about options for favors, flowers, and other things, Jackson sat and listened. Not to the actual details but to the overabundance of words Robért liked to emphasize. It gave his half of the conversation almost a melodic cadence and certainly made for an entertaining time as a spectator to the whole thing.

As Vanessa started talking about her—or rather, Lucie’s—vision for the wedding, Jax took the opportunity to study her. The way she smiled at the flamboyant coordinator almost stole his breath. It was wide, brilliant…sincere. She hadn’t smiled like that with him, but God did he want her to.

He scooted his chair closer to hers and felt her tense up, but if the coordinator noticed, he didn’t let on. Without forethought, he draped his arm over the back of her chair, tipping his body closer to hers. When he used his free hand to tuck her hair behind her ear so he could get a better look at her profile, she jerked back slightly.

Probably realizing she’d reacted out of character for her role as Lucie, she let out a nervous laugh. “Sorry. I guess I was so wrapped up in our conversation that you startled me.”

“No need to explain, honey.” Jax moved his arm from the chair to wrap around her. Her bare shoulder fit perfectly in the palm of his hand. Impulsively, he pulled her in and planted a soft kiss at her temple. “You’ve been jumpy lately from the stress of the wedding.”

Through a tight smile, she said, “I suppose you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right. But, hey,” he said, using a finger on her chin to guide her eyes to his, “we’re here now, and you have Robért to help you with everything. So I want you to take some deep breaths and try to relax.”

Jax wasn’t trying to help “Lucie” relax but Vanessa. Her role in the deception had her wound tight. He inhaled long and slow through his nose and was relieved when she followed suit. They exhaled together and some of the deer-in-headlights look vanished from those pretty green eyes. He gave her a reassuring smile and a slight squeeze on her shoulder.

“That’s my girl,” he said softly. It was only after she smiled wanly and broke eye contact that Jackson realized he’d said that sincerely, not even considering his role as Reid. And he didn’t know what to make of that.

An eruption of enthusiastic clapping from the jovial wedding coordinator interrupted any musings on the puzzle. “Oh, you two are ab-so-lute-ly love-ly! This is why I love my job. There’s nothing else in the world as precious as new love.”

“There certainly isn’t, Rob,” he answered with a grin.

At the end of the meeting, Robért told them he needed a moment with the hostess to schedule their appetizer-tasting appointment for later that week and Vanessa claimed she needed some air. Ever the doting “husband,” Jax followed her out into the sultry late-afternoon heat. As soon as the glass door shut behind them, she let out a huge breath and rolled her head around, trying to work out the tightness in her neck and shoulders.

Since they were still in plain view of Robért, Jackson took the opportunity to move behind her and place his hands on her shoulders. Using his thumbs, he rubbed firm circles between her shoulder blades. Letting her head drop to her chest, she melted under his touch, but not for the reasons he’d like.

“Oh, God, that feels so good.”

“Why so tense, my pupule wahine?”

She shot him a glare from the side. “Don’t try and butter me up with pet names. You know exactly why. Go back on your deals often, Maris?”

“Never.”

“Really? Then what do you call all that unnecessary affection you were laying on me in there?”

Drawing her back against his chest, he moved his thumbs to the base of her neck. “Affection is never unnecessary, V.”

“Ooh, yeah, right there,” she groaned.

Damn, what he wouldn’t give to hear her say that under different, less clothed, circumstances.

“It’s not like I hauled off and kissed you passionately in front of the guy. Besides,” he argued as he turned her to face him, “that’s not what’s really bothering you.” Her stubborn chin raised an inch, but she didn’t contest his observation. “What do your rules say about lying, V?”

For a while, he thought she wouldn’t answer him. That maybe he’d asked for too much. But then she surprised him. “Never indulge in the poison of lies.”

Poison. A person had to have experienced the consequences of some pretty awful lies to consider them poison. And here he was, making her a party in the very thing… He gut twisted. Jax wanted to ask her more, to understand, but over the top of her head he noticed Robért exiting the café.

“Okay, we’re all set to go. Here’s my business card, and I jotted down the date and time for the hors d’oeuvres tasting on the back. If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to call and I’ll be here in a jiffy. Sound good?”

Vanessa smiled and said that it did, while Jax held out his hand. Gripping Robért’s in a less-than-manly shake, he put on his best Happy Groom show. “Thanks so much, Robért. You’ve already been a huge help, and I know you’re going to make my fiancée’s dream wedding come true.”

“Oh, please, no need to thank me, Mr. Andrews. Honestly, I can’t tell you how excited I am to work on this account. It’s so refreshing to work for a couple who is so obviously in love. So many are here just for the glitz and glamour.” He looked around briefly to make sure no one was within earshot, then lowered his voice. “I’ll take clients like you over those arrogant A-listers any day of the week.”

“I understand you have one of those this Saturday.”

“Blech. Don’t remind me. They only arrived yesterday and already the bride has changed her colors six times and the groom demanded we make Italian food for their Hawaiian wedding. Italian!”

Vanessa looked properly horrified for the man. “Oh my gosh, I can’t even imagine. I bet they cause problems right up through the end of the reception.”

“Sweetie, you have no idea.”

Jax slid his arm around Vanessa’s waist. “That’s a shame. Lucie and I would have loved to have you as a guest on our big day.”

Slapping his chest, Robért gasped, making Jackson think they had a cardiac arrest on their hands. “Oh, that is just the sweetest thing! No one ever asks me to attend. They always just expect it because I’m the coordinator.” Waving his hands in front of his face, he blinked back the moisture gathering in his eyes. After a long, awkward few seconds, Robért finally composed himself. “You know what? Screw that other wedding. I’m coming to yours!”

Now it was Jax’s turn to have a heart attack, and next to him he felt Vanessa’s knees give out. If he hadn’t been holding her around her waist, she’d be kissing the paved sidewalk right now. Instantly, they started protesting in the nicest ways possible.

They couldn’t expect him to abandon his other clients.

They didn’t want him to lose his job.

It really wasn’t going to be anything all that spectacular.

The other wedding would look great for his résumé.

But nothing could sway Robért the Sentimental. He had an excuse for everything they’d thrown at him, including informing them that he’d bring in his coordinator friend who “owed him big time” to work the other wedding on Saturday for him.

When there was nothing to do to avoid looking suspicious but pretend to be ecstatic at his change of plans, they said their good-byes and stood in the shade of the café’s awning until Robért rounded the corner with an extra bounce in his step. If that were possible.

Without a word, Vanessa extracted herself from his side, spun on her heel, and stalked in the direction of the bungalow.

F*cking hell. Shit had definitely just hit the fan.

He watched her for a few seconds, contemplating his next move, then jogged to catch up with her. “V, come on. Maybe it’s not as bad as we think. I’m sure we can figure something out.”

Vanessa didn’t stop, and her distraught feelings seemed to be growing with every step. “You know, despite the fact that I hated being deceitful, we were doing fine in our roles as Reid and Lucie. He never once questioned our behavior and the plans were off to a great start. Now, because you felt the need to play Prince Charming to the wedding coordinator, he’ll be with us every step of the way, including the rehearsal dinner and the wedding!”

“Wow, that’s uncanny. You sound just like him.” They rounded the corner to the path that led to their home away from home. “The overemphasizing thing sounds more natural when he does it, though.”

“You always have something to say about everything, you know that?” She stopped short at the front door and shoved her key in the lock. “Which is precisely the reason I told you to keep your big mouth shut and let me do all the talking!”

He followed her inside and closed the door a little harder than necessary. Now he was getting worked up, too. “Yeah, well, I don’t appreciate being told to stay quiet like some yippy dog. I’m not a sidekick, and I’m sure as hell not a mute.”

Tossing the keys on the console table by the door, she spun around and poked him in the chest. “No, you’re definitely not a mute. Believe me, there’s no chance of me ever forgetting that. You haven’t shut up since the moment I laid eyes on you. But let me tell you something, Maris,” she said, stepping in closer and glaring at him like he was her lifelong nemesis. “You have to know when to talk and when to shut your trap. And as far as I can tell, you have no concept of the latter.”

She had no idea the envelope she was pushing. “You’re challenging me, V. Are you sure you wanna go down this road?”

“Ha! You bet your ass I do. In fact, let’s play the Quiet Game. The one who makes the first sound loses. How about that?”

“I think that’s the best thing you’ve said all day.”

“Good!”

“Fine. Just say when.”

“When!”

Vanessa turned, no doubt to stomp off in a huff to ignore him in the silence she thought she’d created, but Jackson wasn’t letting her go anywhere. Grabbing her arm, he spun her back to him and caught her in a tight embrace a split second before he crushed his mouth to hers. She froze, her body stringing wire-tight. But then he nipped her bottom lip and all hell broke loose.

She plunged her fingers into his hair and pressed her body closer to his as she opened her mouth to invite him in. Delving inside, he licked over her tongue again and again. His hands splayed across her back and kept her tight to him as his cock grew hard and begged for the extra pressure. The moment he ground it into her, she moaned in the back of her throat. Technically that was a sound, which claimed him as the victor, but it wasn’t enough. Her accusations wounded his pride, and he’d prove to her he knew exactly when words weren’t necessary. And on top of that, he was going to win her stupid game, because if he didn’t, he knew she’d lord it over him. He expected no less from her.

Breaking from her lips, he moved his kisses to her jawline and down her neck. At the bottom where it met her shoulder, he nipped her again before making his way back up. He made a note that every time he used his teeth, her body jerked like electricity shot through her veins. Seems the Red Viper likes the sting of a bite. What luck. So do I.

Jackson spun them around and pushed her back into the wall, pinning her there with his hips to let his hands roam. He cupped a breast and gave a gentle squeeze as he scraped his teeth over the tight cord in her neck.

And that’s when it happened. She moaned his name.

He wanted her until he couldn’t think from it. But if anything was going to happen between them, she needed to want him, too. And she wasn’t there yet.

Though it killed him, he kept to the game. He stilled all movements and whispered in her ear, “I win,” then crossed the room, entered the bathroom, and shut the door behind him.