Wicked Heat. Kelli Ireland
we can find a...rollaway bed...perhaps?” There was a sense of undisguised pleading in his entire persona, from his nearly vibrating frame to the pitch of every word. “I cannot afford this type of mistake on my employment record, Ms. Montgomery. At the very least, I could be demoted. At worst?” He shook his head as he swallowed, the gulp loud enough to be heard over the hum of the crowded lobby. “And my wife—it would reflect poorly on her as well. Please, allow me to do whatever I may to make this right.”
Ella took a deep breath, held it for a count of ten and then let it out slowly. Squaring her shoulders, she faced Liam and offered a small approximation of a smile. “Surely we’re adult enough to make this work? I’ll take the rollaway; you take the bed. We’re going to be working together so much, this might even work to our benefit.”
Liam’s eyes narrowed farther. “What do you hope to gain?”
“Nothing.” She looked back at Arvin. “It’s what I don’t want him to lose.”
Liam was quiet long enough Ella was certain she’d have to plead with him to go along with it. Then he spoke, his voice rich with implied debauchery. “Surely, as two grown adults in command of their faculties and capable of informed decision making, we can share a room for a few days.”
Ella swallowed hard and nodded. “It’s just for a few days.”
DESPITE HIS IRRITATION with the situation, Liam had to admit he admired the woman in front of him. She obviously didn’t want to room with him, and, while that stung his damnable pride as much as it piqued his equally damnable interest, he found a solid sense of respect blooming alongside his lust. No matter who’d made the mistake, she wouldn’t let this hotel employee suffer for the error.
The singular good thing that came from this debacle? Proximity to Ella would make manipulating the situation much, much easier. A few well-placed comments, a nudge here, a suggestion there and voilà. The unrealistically short engagement following an even shorter committed relationship would not result in the worst possible outcome: a wedding. No, the event would be canceled, and Liam could go back to his day-to-day operations in London while his sister, Jenna, came to her senses about the type of man her fiancé truly was: gold digger, fame seeker, all-around narcissistic bastard and someone whose short-fused temper didn’t suit Jenna’s go-with-the-flow demeanor. Sure, she’d be livid at first. And likely a bit heartbroken. But when she realized the future Liam had saved her from? She’d be grateful. He could weather the emotional storm until that understanding dawned. She was an exceptionally bright woman. It wouldn’t take long.
He nodded to the other gentleman. “I’ve been a guest here before, so I’ll show Ms. Montgomery to the appropriate over-the-water bungalow if you’ll provide general directions.” Arvin began to speak, offering to take them himself, but Liam gently interrupted. “Ms. Montgomery would likely benefit from a chance to quietly settle into her living quarters before she begins her work. My sister, the bride, is a bit, hmm. Let’s call her exacting.”
Ella stood tall, strong, as she drew in a sharp breath and her spine went a fraction more rigid. A fraction was all she had to spare, though, without outright shattering from the afternoon’s stress. He felt a bit bad for her, but his primary objective was postponing the wedding if not outright stopping it. For good.
Directions were provided without hesitation, and Liam offered Ella his arm. “I suppose calling you ‘darling’ at this point wouldn’t go over so well. Shall we?”
Ignoring the gentlemanly gesture, Ella rolled her eyes and bit her lip. He watched as she licked her lower lip with slow, smooth sensuality. “Well, this is about as bad as it can get.” She looked up through thick lashes. “Right? Tell me this is as bad as it can get.”
Liam blinked a couple of times and rolled his shoulders in an attempt to dislodge the guilt draped around his neck like a heavy stole. “It can always get worse.”
She shook her head. “Just once, I wish someone would lie to me when I ask them to instead of lying to me when I don’t expect it.”
The guilt wound around his neck like a garrote, strangling his response. “Bungalows are this way.” He gestured to the nearest door and, taking her messenger bag for her before cupping her elbow, gently steered her toward the exit. The nagging voice in his head, the part that made him good at reading people in the boardroom, wouldn’t hush. He had to know what she’d meant. “People lie to you often?”
“I’m a wedding planner.” She shot him a short look and snorted with incredible derision. “I see people lie to me, their parents, their significant others all the time. People tend to lie the most when it matters the most.”
“Are you always so cynical?”
“Practical.” Gently pulling her elbow from his grip, she held out her hand and waggled her fingers. When he didn’t respond, she plucked her bag from his shoulder. “And I can manage.”
“No doubt.” Still, he opened the door for her. He’d do what he had to do to spare his sister, but he’d still treat Ella Montgomery like the lady she was. Until he couldn’t, for Jenna’s sake. If Ella had siblings, she’d understand. Surely. “How, exactly, do people manage to lie the most when it matters the most?”
“Honestly? Lies always matter.” She navigated the narrow bridge that led away from the sand and out to the bungalows.
“To the right, here,” Liam said, pointing toward a bungalow set away from the others. “I suppose they wanted to provide us some privacy, being newlyweds and all.”
She laughed softly. “Sound carries more efficiently over water than it does land.”
An image of her, hair out of its neat twist and spread around her, linen sheets rumpled and draped across her naked body, one breast bared, a long leg exposed to the hip... Sweet Mary, save him from his suddenly overactive imagination. Heat burned through him like fuel exposed to a lightning strike. He had to focus, to remember what they’d been talking about and remind himself she’d failed to answer his question. “For clarity’s sake...” Irritated at the tightness in his throat, he reached up and, with rough execution, undid his tie and the top button of his dress shirt. Then he tried again. “For clarity’s sake, does a white lie qualify? Particularly if it’s meant to spare one’s feelings?”
She paused at the door and waited while he retrieved one of the two keys in the little envelope and swiped it across the electronic door lock. He handed her the spare key and then pushed the door open to a spacious, elegant bungalow complete with a small infinity-edge pool, glass-paneled floor in the living room, small kitchen and, through the open French doors, a mosquito-netted king bed with an abundance of pillows.
“Go on then,” he said as he moved into the bedroom and dropped his briefcase on the desk. An enormous fresh flower arrangement was situated on one nightstand and scented the ocean breeze with the smell of freesia, roses and something utterly wild. He paused to trace a finger along a single rose petal before calling out, “I’m all ears.”
“Just forget it.” Her voice was muffled, as if she were in the bathroom.
“Can’t. Sorry. Nature of the beast.”
“Look, bottom line is that I’ve come to believe there’s not a time when being lied to doesn’t matter. If it’s important enough to lie about, it’s important.” She leaned around the corner, inhaling as if to say something else, but her eyes widened and she gasped. “This is the honeymoon suite?” She walked through the room and headed straight out the second set of French doors that led to the expansive deck and the view of the crystalline waters and colorful reefs teeming with sea life. “This is incredible!”
“Almost makes it worth being married.”
She shot him a sharp look. “Consider our marriage annulled.”
“Such