No Foolin' (Willowdale Romance Novel) (9 page)

No, no, no
, her sensible self chanted.
This is dangerous, this is bad.
Kate made a mental note to toss Miss Sensible into the sea with a rock tied to her practical pumps.

Teague brushed her hair off her face and ran his thumb across her cheekbone. Tilting her head back to look up at him, she suddenly stopped. Why
was
he doing this? There were no cameras, and certainly no attraction on his part. Just part of his nature, probably.
Have woman in hotel room, must kiss her.

Kate looked down; perhaps she could break the trance.

His other hand wrapped around the back of her head and pulled her face up to his, knocking the breath out of her lungs. He nudged her nose with his and brushed his lips across hers, testing them. Testing her.

She shivered, and he tightened his grip.

Who wouldn’t want to kiss Teague Reynolds? It was pure female nature to want more. He was a luscious chocolate pie taunting her with a taste. It was useless to resist any longer. Kissing him didn’t mean she’d fallen for him. Not at all.
Oh, hell
. “I suppose we should practice making this look good.” Kate’s voice came out in a breathy whisper. “We want people to believe we’re attracted to each other, right?”

His mouth spread into a delicious smile. “Right.” He ran his tongue along her upper lip, while she snaked her hands up his arms. Her knees dipped as he slowly licked her lips. Then he stopped when someone knocked on the door.

“Room service.”

Kate’s mouth hung open and she snapped it shut.

Teague’s shoulders slumped, and he set his forehead against hers. “We’ll try that again later.” He smiled and offered his hand. “Come on. You’ve got to see this.”

She felt like a kite that had fallen straight out of the sky. She even lost her appetite—and that hadn’t happened since the stomach flu knocked her on her butt a few years back. But after stepping outside, her hunger found its way back. A table, set with china and crystal and probably five different forks, sat beneath a small white tent. The white linen tablecloth rippled in the breeze. A waiter stood to the side, ready to serve them.

Teague pulled out a gleaming teak chair for her and she sat down, hoping he couldn’t tell this was the fanciest damn thing she’d ever seen.

Scalia’s could take a few notes here.

Two candles flickered on the table in the blue-black evening. “Wait, what time is it? It’s dark out.” How had he managed all this?

“It’s after six. The sun sets early here.” His face glowed in the candlelight, and she wanted to return to that kiss.

But she yawned instead, being the temptress that she was. “Sorry,” she stifled a giggle. She was still tired from the time difference. She looked up at Teague across the table and smiled.

“You like it?” He looked like a hopeful kid showing off his class project.

She could only manage to nod. No one had ever done anything like this for her. She fingered the napkin in her lap. Her heart lodged in her throat, and she had to look away.

The waiter poured their champagne, and she closed her eyes. The scent of the lingering coconut suntan lotion and the salty brine of the ocean left her swooning. She sipped her drink and let the bubbles tickle her tongue. The waves slapped against the shore and the night was so quiet it was easy to imagine they were alone on a desolate island.
What would it be like to make love in the surf
, she wondered.

The waiter lifted the silver lid off her plate and the savory steak set her mouth watering. Yet she barely tasted the food. She was too busy replaying the scene in the bungalow. Had he been serious? He’d come back to be with her? He was going to kiss her because he wanted to and not because someone was going to take a picture of it?

Kate’s insides hummed just thinking about it. So loudly, she could hear it inside her head. It was getting louder—a lot louder. What was wrong with her? She put her fork down and looked up. It was the thrumming of a helicopter flying toward them. A photographer leaned out the open door, pointing a camera at them, practically close enough to reach down and snag one of the shrimp cocktails.

Teague threw his napkin on the table. He kicked at the sand, swearing, then grabbed the plate of strawberries. “Can you get our drinks?” he shouted.

Kate snatched the champagne flutes and followed him inside, her hair swirling and her insides plummeting. Miss Sensible had kicked off her cement-filled shoes and clawed her way back to shore to add up all the facts. Teague must have known the photographers would find out about their private beach bungalow. That’s probably what he’d been doing up at the hotel, calling in a tip for them to come document this intimate moment with his new “love.”

Lordy, she was a fool. He hadn’t set up a romantic dinner for them at all. He’d set up a photo op.

He closed the door behind them, and she shoved the champagne bottle at him. “You can finish this. I’m going to bed.” She would not be played a fool like her mother had and give her heart to a hound. She was smarter than that. Clenching her teeth, she seethed.

He reached for her but she jerked her arm away. She shivered in the chilly, air-conditioned room. Wrapping her arms around herself, she scanned the room as if there might be a secret hidey-hole back to her world. She couldn’t go outside; the photographer was probably still there. She was stuck in paradise with a man totally messing with her heart.

Defeated, she flopped onto the couch and tucked herself into the corner. Was she more angry or sad? She couldn’t decide. She stole a glance at Teague, standing across the room, staring at the floor, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked ticked as all heck, but who knew if it was just an act?

Still, her heart flip-flopped, watching him, despite the curse words rattling round in her head.

This man should have come with a warning label.

TEAGUE RAN HIS HAND through his hair. This was too much to take. The
paparazzi
weren’t just eating Kate alive; they were turning her into a five-course meal, much like the one he’d arranged outside. Curled up on the couch, she looked so vulnerable. He wanted to scoop her up in his arms and continue where they’d left off before dinner. Only, he wasn’t sure if he’d get a kiss or a slap in return.

He drew the curtain closed over the French doors leading to the patio. “Kate, I’m sorry. The press is more interested in you than I thought.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He set the champagne on the coffee table in front of her and knelt beside her. “You’re different from the typical actress or model I’m seen with. Not many Hollywood types do the Internet dating thing.” He softened his voice. “I didn’t anticipate all this. I’m sorry.” Of course she didn’t want anything to do with him. He was ruining her life. “Maybe things will die down tomorrow with the first premieres. They’ll have other people to stalk, other stories to follow.”

“I just want to sleep,” she said in a thick voice. She wouldn’t look at him. He couldn’t blame her.

Although he was desperate to feel her lips against his again, he knew the best thing now was to leave her alone. “Take the bed.”

She didn’t move off the couch, but he pulled back the bedcovers and fluffed the pillow, hoping she’d make herself comfortable. He went outside to give her some privacy. The bungalow was just one big room. There was no hiding from each other.

He closed the door quietly, sat down in the lounge chair, and stared at the foamy waves lapping the shore, the swooshing sound of the sea taking his mind far away. His plan to become a star and keep anyone from getting close had worked. It was working perfectly tonight,
he thought.
Never thought it would backfire like this.

When he had left home after high school, it was with zero regrets and one wish: to make sure he never loved someone more than they loved him. Somehow, the idea of being a star, of having so many people seeing him on TV or the big screen seemed like it might fill up his empty self-esteem.

It hadn’t, he’d learned, after hitting it big three years earlier with a supporting role on
Big and Bad
. The fans loved him, and the producers gave him a bigger role on the show. That led to his first movie deal, then another, until he realized films were the way to go. It turned out his habit of hopping from girl to girl left an impression in the tabloids. That was okay with him, too. He couldn’t pretend he hadn’t enjoyed it.

His agent and publicist encouraged it. “Once you settle down, fans can’t imagine themselves with you as easily. The last thing you want is to get serious with someone for too long.”

“Won’t be a problem,” he’d assured them. And it had been good fun. But never much more than that.

So what was happening to him now? He glanced back at the bungalow and frowned. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about the woman who was here for ‘strictly business’? He jumped up from his chair and eased the door open, just wanting to talk to her, to hear her laugh. But she was asleep on the couch, long blue shadows and moonlight stretched out across her.

After watching her sleep for a few moments, he slid his hands under her neck and thighs and lifted her, just like when he had carried her off the plane. The back of her legs were moist on his skin and he could only imagine how the rest of her would feel against him. She murmured in her sleep and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Her fingers teased the nape of his neck as if they were searching for something to take hold of.

When he set her on the bed, her hair spread across the pillow, and her lips curled in the slightest smile. He breathed in her sweet scent, tinged with that coconut sunscreen from earlier. Remembering how nervous she’d been as he smoothed the lotion across her skin made him smile. Now he hovered over her again, wanting to kiss her, longing to hold her, hoping she’d wake and invite him to join her. “Kate?”

Her dark lashes brushed her high cheekbones and she sighed in her sleep. He’d be happy just to wrap his arms around her and pull her to him. He’d burrow his nose in her neck, smelling the sweetness of her. That would be good. That would be enough. He didn’t even need to make love to her, though he wanted to fiercely. If she woke, she’d see the evidence for herself.

He cursed under his breath. He ached for her, literally. It hurt to be near her. But he resisted even the urge to kiss her forehead. He needed to get out of this room. He had to get away from her. She didn’t want him, and he’d have to find a way to stop wanting her so badly.

He slipped out the door into the night, his breaths coming fast and heavy. What was wrong with him? It was probably just the stupid bet, right? He had something to prove. Was that it?

He trudged to the Tiki bar outside the hotel, next to the pool. He needed a drink to help settle his emotions and certain body parts. These feelings frightened him. This wasn’t part of his plan.

He sat down and ordered a beer, turning the bottle round and round, thinking about Kate. How could he be concentrating on her full lips and that little freckle right next to her left ear when he had to figure out what to do about the baby? She’d been a good distraction from
that
at least. He asked the bartender for another drink and tipped back his second beer.

“Don’t you look lonely?”

Teague looked up as Simone settled on the barstool next to him in a very tight, very short, green sundress. He knew that was her favorite color, the one she thought played up her eyes. She crossed her legs and bobbed her foot so that the tip of her shoe grazed his leg.

He rubbed his eyes. “Kate’s tired. Jet lag and the time difference knocked her out. It’s tough when you come out here from the east coast.”

“Right, some little hick town in Nowhere, North Carolina?” She squinted her eyes at him seductively, just like she did whenever a camera came her way. “This can’t be real, right? Is this some publicity stunt? Why do it now, right during the festival?” She flipped her long blond hair over one shoulder and lifted an eyebrow. “You can tell me. What’s the real deal?”