“Never seen you in shorts before except on a basketball court,” Nate said with a laugh as he shook hands with his friend.
“We’re thinking of moving here next. The island lifestyle suits me as a man of leisure,” Jack joked.
Jack’s gaze snapped away from Nate and went to Casey, who had launched herself into his arms. Jack roped his arms around his sister, and hugged her tight. “So good to see you,” he said, and Nate turned away, leaving them to their private sibling moment.
He gave Michelle a kiss on the cheek, then was extraordinarily grateful when his property manager pulled him aside and said she wanted to share some good news about the increase in bookings during the last few weeks. He was grateful to sit down with Nicole, and chat business. It helped him clear his head of Casey.
* * *
Casey let out the longest breath when she reached her villa.
God, that had been hard. That had been the most difficult plane ride of her life. She laughed out loud, alone in her spacious villa, the sound echoing across the walls, because, a flight on a luxury jet should never feel difficult.
But she’d white-knuckled it through, sucking in all her heartache, and keeping her desire for him locked up where he couldn’t see. The speedboat might have been the toughest part. With him so near to her like that, and the wind whipping past them over the aqua water, she could smell him. Delicious, alluring, and all man.
At least they were succeeding on the surface, though, in returning to what they were before—friends. Funny how they’d gone from friends-to-lovers together, and now she was reverse engineering that path all on her own, from lovers back to friends.
The tropical breeze beckoned to her, so she strolled onto the gorgeous hardwood deck that led to a private infinity pool, perched at the edge of the ocean. The sun began to dip overhead, the pink fingertips of the pending sunset tugging it to the horizon. This resort was as far away as possible from the sights, sounds and smells of New York—that city cacophony of sensory overload that fed her drive everyday to do, do, do. But here, the lure of relaxation wafted over her in mere minutes. This resort was the opposite of Manhattan in every way—quiet, tranquil, and incredibly calm. Tilting her face to the sun, she let the rays warm her. Maybe this break from the hustle and bustle of work, maybe the bliss of the island breeze, maybe the palm trees gently swaying would cure her of this heartbreak.
As she drank in the intoxicating beauty—the wide, open sea, the endless sky, the succulent air that kissed her bare skin—she made a wish that someday she would have this with someone.
She turned around, the ebb and flow of the ocean flitting past her ears, and flopped face down on the crisp white sheets of the king-sized bed.
A bed for lovers.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to eradicate him from her tired brain. The last thing she needed was to dream of him, a task that was infinitely harder here in a hotel outfitted not only for romance, but for the private bliss of those in love.
Soon, she succumbed to sleep, jet-lag doing its trick in erasing Nate momentarily from her mind.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The Maldives, morning . . .
She spent the next morning having breakfast with Jack and Michelle and the two sets of Sullivan parents. Casey hadn’t seen her mom or her dad in a year, and she didn’t have fond memories of the coldness between the two of them back when she was growing up. But at least her parents were happy now, and happily remarried.
Then the women spent the afternoon at the spa, a gift from Michelle to her wedding guests. Afternoon rolled into evening and it was time for the rehearsal dinner, held in the restaurant on the property that overlooked the turquoise waters. Casey showered, dressed and clipped her hair in a twist on top of her head, loose tendrils falling by her face. She zipped up the light-blue Herve Leger dress that she’d purchased at Harrod’s. She shoved away the sexy memories of those fevered moments in the dressing room. A dress was a dress was a dress.
She wandered across the property, strolling along the sandy, palm-tree-lined path to the restaurant. She was early, but figured she’d grab a glass of champagne at the bar to smooth over the evening, and take the prickly edge off being near to Nate.
She almost tripped in her peep-toed sandals when she spotted him already holding court at the bar, a stunning brunette by his side. The woman looked shockingly like Joanna. The resemblance chilled her. This dark-haired beauty had the same mane of luxurious hair, the same emerald-green eyes, and that same long and lean body. She wore a black pencil skirt, a silky tank top and black pumps. As for Nate, he was too gorgeous to be believed in slacks and a button-down shirt, open at the neck. No tie tonight. The tropical weather simply wouldn’t allow for it.
He held a scotch, clinked his glass with the woman’s, and then took a long swallow. Casey winced at the ease of their interaction, and the way he seemed to slide seamlessly from her to the next woman he wanted in his bed. Some kind of vibe was working between those two. She could tell from the way he laughed at something the slinky brunette said, then the way she dropped her hand onto his forearm, ever so briefly, before letting go. A worm of jealousy slithered in Casey’s gut, turning into a full-blown snake when the woman danced her fingertips across the bar and leaned forward, her silky sheet of hair dangerously close to Nate’s arms, those strong, sexy arms that had held her, pinned her, tied her up.
Oh, hell no. That was not going to fly.
Casey gripped the doorframe, ready to launch an attack. Visions of a fantastic catfight danced in her head. She’d lunge at the woman, grab that black hair, twist it hard, then scratch the woman’s neck. Maybe even her gorgeous face. Anything to keep those claws off her Nate. The battle would rage on, and Casey would yank her off the wooden bar stool and tackle her, landing them both in a heap on the floor of the bar, Casey inflicting punishing blows. All this coiled-up tension would be released in a cathartic, mano-a-mano fight between Casey and the woman she hated for no reason other than that she was laughing and flirting with the man Casey was crazy about.
She lingered on her Fight Club fantasies for another minute, then shooed them away. She was not a violent woman, and didn’t intend to become one now. She believed in pleasure, in intimacy, and in love. That’s why she did what she did for a living. The more she fixated on this jealousy, the further she’d stray from who she truly was.
Besides, she had no plans on ruining her brother’s wedding for the sake of fisticuffs.
She relinquished her grip on the doorframe, smoothed a hand over her gauzy blue dress, then fixed her gaze on the large table near the edge of the sand.