Her Frog Prince

“I’m not paying you for rescuing me.” She raised her chin. “It’s the deed of a good citizen. And you look like…”

“Like what?”

“Well, like you could be a good citizen.” The last thing she wanted to be was indebted to him. That meant spending time with Brad Smith. A man like him—who drove her crazy and sent her thoughts careening into wild, impossible corners—wasn’t what she needed right now.

“If I cleaned up a bit. Put on a tie, you mean?”

“Well…” She glanced at his T-shirt. Plain, un-adorned, no beer-swilling logo or sea life on it. “Yeah.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“You said you’re available for personal consultations. And I want one.”

Oh no. No way. She knew what he meant. It wasn’t a “consultation” at all. He wanted some kind of sex thing, she was sure. No one hired her. She didn’t have any experience. “Is this some weird way of asking me out on a date? Because—”

“I want to hire you.”

“Hire me?” She blinked. “As in pay me money to help you with a project?”

“Yeah, is that so unusual? I mean, that is what you do in your business, right?”

“Oh yeah.” She let out a hiccup of a laugh. “All the time.” At least all the time in the past few weeks. Before that, the only thing she’d been good at was signing her name on charge-card receipts.

“Good. Then you can help me.”

“Help you with what?”

He patted his chest. “Become more of a tie guy.”

She didn’t believe him for a second. Most men were happy with the way they looked and had a heart attack if a woman changed the brand of athletic socks they wore. There was no way this guy was for real. He wanted something else. Something definitely not involving “consulting.”

Besides, he didn’t look like the kind of guy who could afford her fee, whatever it might be, since this was her first real customer, other than organizing the auction for Victoria Smith. “And how were you planning on paying me?”

“I already paid in advance. With the rescue in the water and by helping that couple. I’m low on cash otherwise.”

Parris held the stack of auction papers close to her chest. There were a hundred details yet to take care of before the auction on Saturday, just four days away. With Jackie gone, she couldn’t afford to lose her focus, not for a second. If there was anything Brad Smith would surely make her do, it was lose her focus. Even if he was sincere about hiring her—which she couldn’t imagine he was since he didn’t need a tie to pull up squids—she didn’t have time for him. “I can’t right now. I’m too busy with the auction.”

“Let me guess. The auction to benefit the Victoria Catherine Smith Memorial Aquarium, right?”

“You’ve heard about it?”

“Often.” Brad scowled. Apparently he hadn’t heard anything good. Was her PR campaign that bad? “I can see why that might be more…demanding.”

“Yes, it is. So, you understand why I can’t take you on right now.” There. She had a valid excuse not to get involved with him, whether she owed him a favor or not. She’d write him an IOU and hope he’d forget about it.

He took a step forward, invading her space, forcing her to deal with him. “No, I don’t. But if you say you can’t, I intend to find a way around that.”

A soft breeze whispered through the veranda, lifting her hair. Resort guests came and went, drifting down to the beach or back up to their rooms for a nap.

“There is no way around that, Mr. Smith. If I say I’m busy, I am. My apologies.” She started flipping through the paperwork, hoping she looked too consumed to deal with him.