Stripped

Damn, so much for my famed poker face. ‘Let’s go scout a few more locations.’

If she registers my sudden panic she doesn’t show it. But she does something far more frightening. She crosses the distance between us to stand in front of me, close enough I can smell the resort’s signature exotic fruity body wash, a heady blend of strawberries, lime and coconut. I want to gobble her up.

‘At the risk of sounding crazy, I’m all about the ambience of places. How a house feels, whether it’s good or bad, that kind of thing. And this cave feels incredible, so I’d like to hang out for a bit.’

‘You’re right, you’re crazy.’

I don’t want to stay. Not with her standing too close and staring at me like she can see all the way down to my soul.

‘So I’ve been told.’

I hear a hint of vulnerability in her voice and it slays me. I don’t want to ask. I shouldn’t. But I find my stupid damn mouth not working in sync with my head.

‘Want to talk about it?’

‘Not really,’ she says, but her expression says different, like she’s swallowed a lemon.

‘Guy troubles?’

Belatedly, I remember what she blurted when we were both uncomfortable during our first meeting in my office, something about ending an engagement and not dating much since. I’m an idiot for asking something so personal when all I want to do is escape this place right now.

‘Something like that.’ She sighs and it makes me want to cuddle her. ‘I was engaged to a jerk. Typical good-on-paper guy who’s very different once you have to live with him.’

‘Good on paper?’

She gives a wry chuckle devoid of amusement. ‘The type of guy every woman would love to be with. Financially stable, owns his own house, charming, confident, good-looking.’

‘Like me, you mean?’

‘You’re far from charming.’ She looks at me, but she’s not really seeing me. She’s caught up in memories of some dickhead who hurt her.