Pleasing Her Seal. Anne Marsh

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СКАЧАТЬ “He’s off-limits,” she blurted, surprising herself. She hadn’t decided yet if she was going for him, but she knew she didn’t want to watch Ashley making a move on her chef.

      “He’s all yours,” Ashley said, looking at her over the top of her sunglasses. “But you have to tell me what you’re planning for him.”

      “He may not be interested,” she warned.

      “Oh, he’s interested.” Ashley grinned and, although they both knew she had no way of being certain about Mason’s interest, Maddie appreciated the support.

      Maddie didn’t want to explain how many times she’d met a guy and gone after him, only to learn that he thought of her as the fun friend. At the last wedding she’d attended, the usher she’d been paired with had spent the evening reception hitting her up for the maid of honor’s phone number. His patent disinterest in her own charms had rankled, too, because she’d thought they had good chemistry. Clearly, her dating radar was broken.

      “Remember,” she said lightly. “I’m always the bridesmaid and never the bride.”

      “How many times?”

      It took a minute to do the math. “Thirteen. And gig number fourteen is coming up in a month. I have enough bridesmaid dresses in my closet to open my own bridal shop.”

      Ashley made a sympathetic face. “You think they’d notice if you recycled and wore one more than once?”

      “They’d notice,” she said with feeling. She’d dealt with more than one bridezilla.

      Ashley nodded. “So. What’s the plan?”

      She didn’t have one.

      “Pick a drink,” her friend advised. “Imagine the possibilities. I’ll get you started. Dirty Girl Scout. Sex on the Farm. Sexy Alligator.”

      “You made that one up.”

      “Right here on the menu.” Ashley stabbed the plastic with her finger.

      “Alligators aren’t sexy,” she protested. And sex on a farm didn’t sound particularly exciting, either. She was more of a sex-on-a-yacht-with-a-billionaire type of gal.

      Ashley shrugged unrepentantly. “Imagine Mason’s face if you asked for that. You could get him to do anything.”

      They both turned to stare at him. Nope. Imagining that was even harder than finding the sexy in an alligator. Ashley wasn’t deterred.

      “Pink Panties. Sex in the Driveway. Long Slow Screw Against the Wall.” Ashley waved a hand. “Stop me when I get warm.”

      “That sounds so cheesy,” she objected. But it also sounded fun. Her stomach hurt from laughing.

      “Think of all the ways to improve your love life.” Ashley smirked at her, as if finding an improved sex life was that simple.

      Maddie stared at her margarita. No easy answer in the mango-flavored cocktail. Even though she was technically here on a working vacation, she’d been encouraged to sample everything the resort had to offer. So she could better describe it for her blog followers. She’d been more than happy to comply. A free week of R & R at an all-inclusive luxury villa? Sign her up. She could do whatever she wanted. Check out the beach. Go to lunch twice. Spend all her afternoons lazing in the sun or lying out at the spa.

      Alone.

      She hadn’t considered the implications of being a party of one until her seaplane had been wheels down—did seaplanes even have wheels?—surrounded by happy, honeymooning, we’re-having-fantastic-sex couples. Truthfully? She was lonely. Envious. Horny. As she watched other couples kissing and holding hands and generally getting started on happily-ever-after, she was feeling more than a little left out.

      She clutched the mango margarita, fighting the urge to make a face. She had nothing to complain about. Hello, free vacation? It was just that she had kind of imagined that someday she would be the bride and that there would be a Mr. Maddie by her side to frolic on the island with her. Instead, she had another bridesmaid gig lined up for next month, and her lunchtime companion was another singleton she’d met on the seaplane.

      Not that Ashley wasn’t fantastic. She was.

      A shadow fell over them. “Ladies,” a familiar deep voice said. Mason stood over them, big and stern. Oops.

      * * *

      MADDIE KNEW HOW to follow orders. Sort of. And definitely in her own unique, impulsive way. Mason probably shouldn’t read anything into Maddie’s attendance of his cooking class, but she was trouble and he had a feeling they both knew it.

      After he broke up her gossipfest with Ashley, she bounced up to the temporary cooking station he’d pointed her to as though he hadn’t just interrupted a conversation about her dating life. Her bikini hugged her gorgeous curves and made his fingers itch to touch her, to smooth the fabric away and uncover bare skin. Her red hair was pulled up in a ponytail that brushed her shoulders with each jaunty step she took, and she had a pair of big white sunglasses pushed up on top of her head. Her cover-up was some kind of wrap thing with fringe on the sleeves that made him think of bedrooms. And getting naked. He thought a lot about getting naked when he was near Maddie.

      She didn’t seem to be mad at him about his startling her yesterday, which was a plus. On the other hand, she wasn’t exactly paying all that much attention to him, either. Apparently, she wasn’t harboring teacher fantasies.

      Still, he couldn’t help stealing glances at her and envisioning all the ways he could get to know her better. Make her feel better. She’d seemed...lonely. Even though she’d had her cute butt parked next to Ashley and had been laughing and talking up a storm like she always did, there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. Maybe it was just because she was literally here by herself and Fantasy Island didn’t have a swinging singles scene. He’d never seen so many couples glued to each other outside a porn flick. He’d walked past the Jacuzzi the other night and his eyeballs still burned.

      He lined his students up at the table, passed out mangoes, and then knives. Since he only had the four students, giving Ashley a wide berth was difficult, but he managed. Guests three and four were a honeymooning couple more interested in each other than mangoes. That was fine with him. Teaching crepe making was new to him, so the smaller the audience, the better. As soon as he barked go, Maddie obediently went to town on her mango, wielding her knife with more enthusiasm than skill. She attacked the fruit the same way she appeared to attack life—head-on.

      She was beautiful, but that wasn’t the reason for his attraction. Or, rather, it wasn’t the sole reason. As hokey as it sounded, when she got close, he wanted to smile. To hold her in his arms and dance her around in a big old circle until she collapsed against him, dizzy and laughing. He wanted to laugh with her—and he’d felt that way since he first landed on the island and had set eyes on her.

      She was someone special. And if there was an edge of desperation beneath her laughter, he wanted to know that side of her, too. She wasn’t just the life of the party, even if that was what she wanted the world to believe. And he didn’t think for one second that she was content with standing on the sidelines, watching wedding after wedding. So what did she want?

      A piece of mango hit the pool deck. She cursed, and nearly amputated her finger, and he decided it was time for an intervention. СКАЧАТЬ