The guy’s forehead furrowed. “Oh? You’re not with Duncan, Amelia, Conner, and Pippa Evermore?”
“What? No...” I looked past the guide and froze. By the frangipani-decorated van stood the family who’d boarded while I’d been stuck at the gate in Los Angeles.
The wife smiled, waving a little. “Hello again.”
I swallowed. “Uh, hi.”
The driver tapped his clipboard. “So you know each other? You family or not?”
“We’ve met but aren’t related.” The husband with his bushy beard grinned. “We’re strangers but more than happy to travel in the same van.” He strode toward me, hand outstretched. “I’m Duncan. Nice to meet you...”
My manners kicked in. “Estelle. Pleasure to meet you...for the second time.”
“Likewise, Estelle. That was rather random back in the States, huh? Never met another Evermore before. Perhaps we are related and just don’t know it.” He winked as his large hand wrapped around mine, squeezing warmly. “Oh well, any girl as pretty as you is welcome to join our family.” Turning to face his loved ones, he pointed at each in turn. “My wife Amelia, and our rug-rats, Conner and Pippa.” He rolled his eyes at his brood. “Say hi, kids.”
The little girl hugged her tatty-stuffed kitten. “Hi.”
The teenage boy didn’t look up from his gaming device, his fingers flying over the controls.
I waved lamely. “Hi, guys.”
“Don’t mind them. Just tired and need sleep.” Duncan took a step back. “So, what brings you to Fiji?”
Before I could answer, footsteps sounded behind me followed by an intake of breath. “You.”
My heart skipped as I whirled around. My gaze locked onto the vibrant blue eyes framed so deliciously in black glasses.
The man from Los Angeles.
“You.”
He smirked. “I already said that.”
“What are you doing here?” Nerves scattered over my skin, adding to the residual trembling from turbulence.
“I think the same reason why you’re here.”
The driver butted in. “Are you Mr. Oak?”
The man tore his eyes from mine. “I am.” Hoisting his backpack higher onto his shoulder, he swiped a hand through his thick dark hair. The locks immediately flopped back over his forehead as if they’d claimed that part of his face and refused to behave. His skin was the perfect alabaster of a true Englishman while his height and broadness of well-used muscles hinted he might be more farm boy than aristocrat.
A mental movie unravelled in my head of him toiling away beneath the hot sun (shirtless, of course) with his glasses sliding down his sweaty nose.
I’d never thought of glasses as a sex statement (more of an inconvenience) but on him...holy crap.
His attention fell back to me. He cocked his head, running his tongue along his bottom lip. “I wondered where you disappeared to.”
“Pardon?” I hated the way his gravelly voice slipped beneath my clothes as if he’d already seen me naked. I loathed the way his accent made me want to revoke my many rules and beg to listen to who he was and share my tale in exchange. I never wanted to talk about myself...so why him? What made him so different?
“On the plane. You bolted when we landed.”
My heart stopped. “Wait. You could see me on board?” Embarrassment flushed my skin. He’d seen me throwing up? He’d witnessed a neurotic idiot shove as many belongings as she could into pockets of a jacket that’d become far too stifling in the muggy heat, all because she’d had a hare-brained idea of surviving after plummeting thousands of feet into a stormy ocean?
Wonderful.
Flipping brilliant.
“I saw you. I was even tempted to come and talk to you.” His eyes slipped over my nose, cheeks, and lips, taking far more liberties than a stranger should. His damn glasses glittered in the lights, drawing all my focus to the one part of him I wanted to escape.
Wait...
Tempted to talk to me but didn’t.... Guess he did see me in all my crazy glory.
My voice cracked with nerves. “And why didn’t you?”
Why would you ask that?
I didn’t want to know what’d turned him off. I’d made a pact to reinvent myself when I returned home. Whoever he’d seen on the plane no longer existed.
Then why do you care if you're no longer that person?
Shut up!
God, I was annoying myself.
His eyebrows quirked in an entirely roguish way. “Why didn’t I what?” The connection between us grew heavier by the second.
Seriously?
He’d baited me, and, like a stupid fish, I couldn’t ignore the hook. “Come talk to me?”
Suddenly, the smouldering awareness snipped free with one caustic laugh from him. “Oh. Let’s just say, I have my reasons.”
My cheek smarted as if he’d slapped me physically rather than just figuratively. I didn’t know how to take that.
Should I be impressed that he noticed me and not care why he hadn’t approached, or jilted that I’d interested him but not enough to enlist conversation?
Egotistical jerk.
Duncan laughed under his breath, returning to his wife.