His Accidental Heir. Joanne Rock

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      Now, rolling out her yoga mat on the damp sand, she made herself comfortable in child’s pose, letting the magic of the sea and the surf do their work on her muscles tight with stress.

      One. Two. Three. Breathe.

      Smoothing her hands over the soft cotton of her bright pink crop top, she felt her diaphragm lift and expand. She rarely saw anyone else on the beach at this hour, and the few runners or walkers who passed by were too busy soaking up the same quiet moments as she to pay her any mind.

      Maresa counted through the inhales and exhales, trying her damnedest to let go of her worries. Too bad Cameron Holmes’s ice-blue eyes and sculpted features kept appearing in her mind, distracting her with memories of that electric current she’d experienced just looking at him.

      It made no sense, she lectured herself as she swapped positions for her sun salutations. The guest was demanding and borderline rude—something that shouldn’t attract her in the slightest. She hated to think his raw masculinity was sliding under her radar despite what her brain knew about him.

      At least she’d made it through the first day of his stay without incident. But while that was something to celebrate, she didn’t want her brother crossing paths with the surly guest again. She’d held her breath yesterday when the two passed one another in the corridor outside the Antilles Suite, knowing how much Rafe loved dogs. Thankfully, her brother had been engrossed in his music and hadn’t noticed the Maltese.

      She’d keep Rafe safely away from Mr. Holmes for the next two weeks. Tilting her face to the soft glow of first light, she arched her back in the upward salute before sweeping down into a forward bend. Breathing out the challenges—living in tight quarters with her family, battling local agencies to get her brother into support programs he needed for his recovery, avoiding her former fiancé who’d texted her twice in the last twenty-four hours asking to see her—Maresa took comfort in this moment every day.

      Shifting into her lunge as the sun peeked above the horizon, Maresa heard a dog bark before a small white ball of fluff careened past her toward the water. Startled by the sudden brush of fur against her arm, she had to reposition her hands to maintain her balance.

      “Poppy.” A man’s voice sounded from somewhere in the woods behind the beach.

      Cameron Holmes.

      Maresa recognized the deep baritone, not by sound so much as by the effect it had on her. A slow, warm wave through the pit of her belly. What was the matter with her? She scrambled to her feet, realizing the pampered pet of her most difficult guest was charging into the Caribbean, happily chasing a tern.

      “Poppy!” she called after the dog just as Cameron Holmes stepped onto the beach.

      Shirtless.

      She had to swallow hard before she lifted her fingers to her lips and whistled. The little Maltese stopped in the surf, peering back in search of the noise while the tern flew away up the shore. The ends of Poppy’s glossy coat floated on the surface of the incoming tide.

      The man charged toward his pet, his bare feet leaving wet footprints in the sand. Maresa was grateful for the moment to indulge her curiosity about him without his seeing her. A pair of bright board shorts rode low on his hips. The fiery glow of sunrise burnished his skin to a deeper tan, his square shoulders rolling with an easy grace as he scooped the animal out of the water and into his arms. He spoke softly to her even as the strands of long, wet fur clung to his side. Whatever he said earned him a heartfelt lick on the cheek from the pooch, its white tail wagging slowly.

      Maresa’s heart melted a little. Especially when she caught a glimpse of Cameron Holmes’s smile as he turned back toward her. For a moment, he looked like another man entirely.

      Then, catching sight of her standing beside her yoga mat, his expression grew shuttered.

      “Sorry to interrupt your morning.” He gave a brief nod. Curt. Dismissive. “I thought the beach would be empty at this hour or I wouldn’t have let her off the leash.” He clipped a length of pink leather to the collar around Poppy’s neck.

      “Most days, I’m the only one down here at this time.” She forced a politeness she didn’t feel, especially when she wasn’t on duty yet. “Would you like a towel for her?”

      The animal wasn’t shivering, but Maresa couldn’t imagine it would be easy to groom the dog if she walked home with wet fur dragging on the ground.

      “I didn’t think to bring one with me.” He frowned, glancing around the deserted beach as if one might appear. “I assumed towels would be provided.”

      She tried not to grind her teeth at the air of entitlement. It became far easier to ignore the appeal of his shirtless chest once he started speaking in that superior air.

      “Towels are available when the beach cabana opens at eight.” Bending to retrieve the duffel on the corner of her mat, she tugged out hers and handed it to him. “Poppy can have mine.”

      He hesitated.

      She fought the urge to cram the terry cloth back in her bag and stomp off. But, of course, she couldn’t do that. She reached toward the pup’s neck and scratched her there instead. Poppy’s heart-shaped collar jangled softly against Maresa’s hand. She noticed the “If Found” name on the back.

      Olivia Trager?

      Maybe the animal belonged to a girlfriend.

      “Thank you.” He took the hand towel and tucked it around the dog. Poppy stared out of her wrap as if used to being swaddled. “I really didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

      He sounded more sincere this time. Maresa glanced up at him, only to realize how close they were standing. His gaze roamed over her as if he had been taking advantage of an unseen moment, the same way she had ogled him earlier. Becoming aware of her skimpy yoga crop top and the heat of awareness warming her skin, she stepped back awkwardly.

      “Ms. Trager must really trust you with her dog.” She hadn’t meant to say it aloud. Then again, maybe hearing about his girlfriend would stop these wayward thoughts about him. “That is, no wonder you want to take such good care of her.”

      Awkward much? Maresa cursed herself for sticking her nose in his personal business.

      His expression remained inscrutable for a moment. He studied her as if weighing how much to share. “My mother wouldn’t trust anyone but me with her dog,” he said finally.

      She considered his words, still half wishing the mystery Ms. Trager was a girlfriend on her way to the resort today. Then Maresa would have to take a giant mental step backward from the confusing hotel guest. As it stood, she had no one to save her from the attraction but herself. With that in mind, she raked up her yoga mat and started rolling it.

      “Well, I hope the dog walker and groomer meet your criteria.” She stuffed the mat in her duffel, wondering why he hadn’t let the walker take the animal out in the first place. “I’m happy to find someone else if—”

      “The walker is fine. You’re doing an excellent job, Maresa.”

      The unexpected praise caught her off guard. She nearly dropped her bag, mostly because he fixed her with his clear blue gaze. Heat rushed through her again, and it didn’t have anything to do with the sun bathing them in the morning СКАЧАТЬ