“That’s because I don’t do Hawaiian anything. It’s Jude’s idea of a joke.”
“Well, I don’t do dresses.” She scowled and plucked at the skirt in disgust. “My sister bought it for me when I told her I’d be coming here for a wedding. It was either wear it or face her wrath when I get home. So just call me chicken. Bawk. Bawk.”
Cam laughed but wasn’t about to tell her that her sister had impeccable taste. The asymmetrical dress was just as edgy as Eva herself and the deep red color complimented the dark silk hair and bronze skin she’d inherited from her father’s Brazilian roots. The fabric hugged curves she usually hid and parted to showcase a long leg when she stood.
Cam tried to keep his voice light as he reached over and flicked the end of the halter neck’s tie. “Looks good.”
Her dark eyes narrowed at him. “Are you trying to be funny? ‘Cause I gotta warn you, I’m armed.”
Armed? Where?
He looked her up and down and about swallowed his tongue at the possibilities.
Damn.
Something sparked behind her eyes. Recognition. A trace of heat. Panic. She backed away from him in a quick step, knocking into one of the folding chairs at the edge of the aisle. “Uh, we should probably go inside.”
Cam shook himself and glanced around. They were the only ones left on the beach.
Inside. Where his brothers were probably waiting on him. Right.
He held out an arm. “Shall we?”
She ignored the gesture and bent over to pull off her sandals. “Will there be beer at this reception?”
He scoffed. “My brothers are here.”
“Ah, good point.” Her dark eyes crinkled at the corners as she grinned up at him. “Race ya in, Wilde. Winner buys first round.”
She didn’t give him a chance to respond, but took off like a thoroughbred, all graceful long legs with her dark hair streaming through the air.
Cam couldn’t move, could only watch her, his heart pounding and his mouth as dry as the sand under his feet.
Damn.
He was so fucked.
Chapter Two
Eva weaved through the crowd gathered on the hotel’s patio, her heart thundering and not from her sprint across the beach. She didn’t dare look behind her to see if he was following, and that pissed her off. She needed to put on her big girl panties. Actually, at the moment, she’d be happy with any panties, big girl or not. The dress hadn’t allowed for anything more than a thong, and she was counting down the hours until she could get out of the uncomfortable thing.
Annnd she was stalling.
Fuck it. She stole a glance over her shoulder and let out a breath of relief when all she saw was a crowd of nameless wedding guests. No Cam.
What the hell had that all been about anyway?
One moment it had been a typical conversation between her and Cam—and then it wasn’t. She’d started getting weird vibes from him and had felt…hot. She’d looked at him in that ridiculous shirt with his dark hair mussed by the ocean breeze, his perpetual stubble darkened past a five o’clock shadow, that funny little quirk of a smile of his twisting his lips, and something changed. She’d had the urge to drag him up to her hotel room and put that perfectly made king-sized bed to good use. And maybe the glass enclosed shower. The sofa. The floor…
No.
What?
She brought those thoughts to a slamming halt.
She was no prude. She liked sex, and despite her recent dry spell, she liked to engage in it as often as possible. But, fuck, this was Camden Wilde she was fantasizing about. Her ex-partner. Her best friend. And she hadn’t even had a drink yet!
Which was something she definitely needed to remedy. Right now.
Eva wound through the schmoozing wedding guests to the white tent set up as a reception hall. The sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in bright pinks and soft purples. Huge paper globe lanterns hung from the ceiling and gave off a welcoming yellow glow. Two long tables, decorated with breezy white linen and tropical flower centerpieces set every few feet, ran side-by-side on a low wooden dais at one end of the tent with the wedding party’s smaller table at the front. A few people had already taken their seats, but she didn’t know anyone, so she ignored them all and continued her search for a cold alcoholic beverage. The other side of the tent was an open stretch of sand that she assumed would be the dance floor once the DJ in the corner finished setting up his equipment. Until then, a quartet played soft guitar music on another low dais. It was nice, if not a bit snooze-worthy.
But no bar.