Flawless Danger (The Spencer & Sione #1) (17 page)

“What is this anyway?” She accepted the shot glass. “Did I already ask?”

“Blue Label.”

“Nice.” She nodded, taking a sniff of the aged malt scotch. “Where’d you get it?”

“We keep it stocked in the bar for our newly married couples.”

“Hmmm.”

“Anyway, my uncle didn’t leave me everything,” he said. “Just this property.”

“Lucky you.” She gazed at him with narrowed eyes, holding her empty shot glass toward him, and as he gave her a refill, he frowned a bit.

Was there a hint of larceny in her sultry stare? Or was it lust? Or, maybe the Blue Label?
 

Lucky you.
 

Sione wasn’t sure if he was bothered by her comment, wasn’t sure if he should read anything into it. He didn’t want to think Ms. Edwards was giving him subtle provocative poses and smoldering glances because she was interested in the real estate he’d inherited from his uncle.

If she was drunk, then he wanted her to be intoxicated by the aged scotch, not the idea of scamming landholdings from him. Not that he believed she wanted to steal his property. According to his cousin, Ms. Edwards was most likely involved in white-collar shenanigans.

“Nice that your uncle cared so much about you,” she said and then tossed back the scotch.

Sione wondered about her tone. He didn’t think it was jealousy, more like a wishful longing. Maybe she didn’t have anyone who cared about her? He didn’t know and didn’t think he could conclude anything. He didn’t know enough about her situation, and he was probably half-drunk himself.

“It’s just difficult.” He put the Blue Label on the coffee table and then sat on the couch next to her, not too close but not too far away.

She looked at him, turning her body at an angle toward him, distracting him a little.

“You’re thankful.” He went on, staring at the empty shot glass. “But I have all the property I have because he’s gone, and I appreciate it, I know it’s a blessing, but ...”

“You would rather have your uncle,” she said. “I know what you mean.”

He glanced at her and saw the lost, forlorn look in her brown eyes. “You lost someone close to you?”

Nodding, Ms. Edwards said, “My mother.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I was seven.” She put the shot glass on the coffee table and then leaned back against the couch cushions.

“That must have been tough.”

“Brutal.” She sighed. “You know, when you’re young, you don’t understand why bad things happen. Part of me blamed her and even hated her for leaving me.”

“Death is hard when you’re a kid.”

Ms. Edwards turned her head toward him, a strange look on her face, her mouth parted slightly, like maybe she wanted to say something, but didn’t know how. Nodding, she looked away.

“So, you were raised by your dad?” Sione asked.

“No, thank goodness,” she said, shaking her head. “My dad can barely take care of himself. I would have ended up in foster care if my father had tried to raise me.”

“I know what you mean,” he said.

“So, I’m guessing your dad isn’t in the running for Father of the Year, either?”

“To even call him a father would be a stretch,” Sione said. “A gross miscarriage of justice.”

She giggled a little, reaching for the shot glass again. “A gross miscarriage of justice?”

“My cousin, Truman, is always saying that,” he explained. “He’s a lawyer.”

Ms. Edwards looked at the half-empty shot glass and then asked, “Why aren’t you close to your father?”

“Uh …” He looked away, caught off guard. “I wish I knew.”

“Why don’t you know?” she asked. “He wasn’t around a lot when you were a kid?”

He looked away, wishing he didn’t have to lie. But the relationship with Richard was too complex, too volatile, too violent. Trying to explain why he and Richard would never be father and son, despite their biological ties, would be damn near impossible, and he didn’t think she would understand.

He’d have to resurrect old memories he’d buried long ago, and he wanted his past to stay in the grave. Any conversation about Richard Tuiali’i was tricky and risky. He couldn’t tell the complete, unabridged truth, not unless he wanted Ms. Edwards to shrink away from him, repulsed and revolted.

He would have to skip some parts and embellish others. Trying to rewrite history was dangerous, like walking on the edge of a knife. He was bound to slip, cut himself to pieces.

“When I was sixteen, I left Belize to go and live with my uncle.” Sione sighed. “My dad wasn’t too happy about that, and it caused a rift between us. We just kept growing apart and then, I don’t know.”

Ms. Edwards cleared her throat, sat up a bit. “You have brothers or sisters?”

“Uh, yeah.” He looked toward the front door. “Unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately?”

Pissed at himself, he said, “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Why did you?”

“When I was younger, my parents weren’t getting along, and my dad was getting involved with other women. One of his girlfriends got pregnant, and I wasn’t happy about that, especially since it led to my parents’ divorce,” he said, not sure why he was being so open with her. “Anyway, I liked being the only child, so my dad having another kid kinda pissed me off. And then his other girlfriend got pregnant, and there was another kid, and this pattern continued, and now I’ve got half-brothers and half-sisters that I haven’t even met.”

“I know what you mean,” she said. “I have two half-sisters. We all have the same deadbeat dad. Anyway, I was sixteen when I found out they existed, and I wasn’t thrilled to meet them.”

“Are you closer to them now?”

“Very close. I wouldn’t make it without them,” she said, gazing at the coffee table, her eyes a bit glazed, as though she were remembering something she wanted to forget. “I’m grateful they’re in my life now, but I wish I had grown up with them because …”

“Because …” he prompted, wondering why she’d trailed off.

“When I was a little girl,” she started, clasping her hands together, staring down at her intertwined fingers. “I really needed them, especially when my mother …”

She stopped talking abruptly and then looked at him. There was tension in her face, a passive consternation, as though she was wrestling with some internal debate, maybe brought about by thoughts of the mother she’d lost at such a young age.

He put his shot glass down and moved a bit closer to her. “I think I understand.”

She frowned, a bit of suspicion in her luminous, heavy-lidded brown gaze.

Compelled to move even closer, wanting to comfort her, he said, “You needed your sisters when your mother passed away.”

San Ignacio, Belize

Belizean Banyan Resort - Honeymoon Casita

Kiss him.

The thought slipped into Spencer’s mind, sly and sensuous and
stupid
. She couldn’t just kiss him, out of the blue, with no provocation. It wouldn’t make any sense. She had to do something. She had to get away from the subject of her mother, which she never should have mentioned. She didn’t know why she had. Maybe she was drunk. Maybe the Blue Label had her making foolish decisions, revealing things she didn’t even like to admit to herself.

And now Sione “John” Tuiali’i, the gorgeous resort owner, was waiting for her to confirm that she’d needed her sisters’ support after her mother had died, but she couldn’t do it. It wasn’t true.

Sometimes, she wished she’d grown up with Rae and Shady, but only because her childhood had been gut-wrenchingly lonely, not because she’d lost her mom. She couldn’t tell him the truth—it was difficult to explain. And so, she had to kiss him.

“Ms. Edwards,” he said. “I know you probably—”

Panicked, Spencer climbed onto his lap. Seconds later, her mouth was pressed against his, a bit reluctant at first, and she hesitated, wondering if she’d made a mistake, if he would push her away.

But another second later, she felt his fingers sink between the strands of her hair, cradling her skull, and the kiss deepened as their lips parted and his tongue slid into her mouth, slowly down the length of hers, swirling languidly.

Moaning softly, Spencer wrapped her arms around his neck. Kissing the resort owner was a mistake. Ben had told her to get close, but not too close—just close enough. But she wasn’t really kissing him to get close to him. The kiss had nothing to do with the favor Ben was making her do. She was kissing him to get away from the topic of her mother.

He pulled back and stared at her. “Um … did you mean to do that?”

Breathless, Spencer shook her head, gazing at his full lips. “Not really.”

“You wanna stop?” He slid his finger along her bottom lip, slowly, gently.

“I’ll let you know in a minute.” Spencer wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and when their mouths met again, there was no hesitation, no restraint as their tongues twirled and danced in a wild, desperate frenzy.

The kiss intensified, and for Spencer, it was as if they were kissing to save their lives. Abruptly, he lay back on the couch, pulling her with him, and the kiss continued, unbroken. They moved onto their sides, pressed against each other, and as Spencer hooked a leg over his waist, he rolled them to the right.

They tumbled over the side of the couch.

Spencer squealed, and the next moment, they were on the floor between the couch and the coffee table.

Laughing, he looked at her. “This might be a little more comfortable in the bedroom.”

“The bedroom.” Spencer gasped, trying to catch her breath as she raised up and moved away from him, scurrying back up onto the couch.

What the hell was her damn problem? She’d told herself not to kiss him. She’d known it would be a mistake, and now she was trying to deal with her dumb decision, trying to tame the out of control desire pulling her toward him, those lustful feelings demanding to be appeased.

“Well, I just thought.” He sat up, eyes full of concern and uncertainty.

“Listen, I should, um … ” Spencer stammered, jumping up from the couch. “I should probably go.”

The resort owner stood. “You don’t have to.”

Spencer looked around the living room for her purse. “Yes, um, actually, I do.”

“Ms. Edwards, we’re in your casita.”

“Oh, yeah. Right.” Heart hammering, Spencer dropped down onto the couch, rubbing her hands over her head, gathering her hair to wind it back into the bun. “Well, then you should probably go.”

“Are you sure?”

No, she wasn’t sure. Or, rather, she was sure. Sure that she wanted him to stay. She jumped up, rushed to the door, and opened it. “I’m absolutely sure.”

He stared at her, and she could tell he was disappointed, reluctant to leave, but she couldn’t give in, no matter how much she wanted to. And she
really
wanted to give in. She wanted to grab the gorgeous, sexy resort owner and drag him into the bedroom. Pushing the thoughts away, she said, “Goodnight,
John
.”

San Ignacio, Belize

Belizean Banyan Resort – Jaguar Café

“Here you are, ma’am.” The waitress placed a ceramic mug filled with steaming coffee and a small cup of cream in front of Spencer.

“Thank you,” Spencer said.

Seven in the morning, and the resort restaurant was bustling with tourists, excited and happy, eager to stuff themselves with carbs and protein so they could get on to the next adventure. As she poured a bit of cream into the dark liquid, she heard snatches of conversation from the tables around her. Someone had gone to the Mayan ruins, someone else had dealt with a golf cart that wouldn’t start in San Pedro, and another person had seen a shark while on a snorkeling trip.

Spencer had hoped eavesdropping on other tourists would take her mind off last night, when she’d kissed Sione “John” Tuiali’i. She’d obsessed about their impromptu make-out session on the couch all night, and she was still thinking about it. She was taking care to focus more on the kiss than on the reason why she’d jumped in his lap and pressed her mouth against his—to avoid the topic of her mother, a topic she always tried to avoid. Spencer brought the mug of coffee to her lips.

When she wasn’t thinking about the kiss, she was remembering the time they’d spent together, meandering through the town, enjoying the bright, blue sky and the gentle breeze wafting from the calm, blue-green waters. Her memories weren’t complete without a reflection of her crazy idea to help him avoid an awkward situation with the girl he hadn’t called back.

As a result of that silly attempt, Spencer now thought of him more as “John” than Sione Tuiali’i, the resort owner. She wasn’t sure why, but when she thought of him as “John,” he became to her more approachable, more attainable. Someone she might be able to laugh with and maybe share a few secrets. Sione Tuiali’i, the resort owner, was someone she had to get close to but not too close.

She was being forced to trick Sione Tuiali’i with seductive manipulation, and she hoped her deception would entice him to ask her out to dinner. She had to pray she was pretty enough to fool him into thinking she was worth his time and effort. She wanted to think she could get as close to “John” as she wanted. She could be vulnerable with him, and kiss him like there was no tomorrow, and she didn’t have to play the part of a sexpot, trying to scam him into wanting her. “John” would think she was beautiful, but her looks wouldn’t be the reason for his interest.

“Got something for you.”

Jolted, Spencer looked up.

The sweaty, lecherous cab driver pulled out the chair across from her, taking a seat she hadn’t offered.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Spencer put the mug on the table. “I finished the damn side ventures.”

“Ain’t here about the side ventures.” He leered at her, swiping fingers beneath his bulbous nose. “Got something to help you with
Step Three
.” The cab driver delved a hand inside his dusty, denim jacket, pulled out a small, square box, and pushed it across the table toward her.

Apprehensive, Spencer stared at the box, pulse racing, and her mind swirled with questions. Why was Ben giving her something to help her with
Step Three
? She hadn’t even completed
Step Two
. She was still working on getting John to invite her to dinner and back to his casita.