Rules of Entanglement (4 page)

“Caviar dreams and champagne wishes,” she whispered with a smile before falling back on the cloud they called a mattress…and dozed off.

A knock on the door startled her awake. Checking the time on her watch, she relaxed. About thirty minutes had passed, which was a pretty good power nap. She definitely felt more refreshed.

The knock sounded again. If there was a God it’d be a waiter holding one of those yummy blue drinks she’d seen everywhere.

“Coming,” she called, hopping from the bed. Yanking the door open, her excitement fizzled. “Oh. It’s you.”

“Tiny blue pill? So classic.” Jackson put a hand against his heart as he stepped over the threshold. “It hurt, but it was classic.”

She closed the door behind him a little harder than necessary. “Yeah, well, you won’t think it’s so
classic
when the news about our Lucie and her rich and famous fiancé being on the rocks ends up in the tabloids. Which will be all your fault, by the way.”

He leaned a shoulder against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. “How will it be my fault?”

“Because!” She poked him in the chest. “You got me all fired up with your insults. Reid would never have said something like that about Lucie. He worships the ground she walks on. But it’s obvious you wouldn’t have the first clue as to how to treat a woman, so how we’re going to pull this off for an entire week is beyond me. Then again, when the girl from the front blabs about our little production back there, we’ll probably be thrown out on our asses, and then we won’t have to worry about it.”

She started to turn, but he held her arm captive, preventing her from storming off. “First of all, Jilli isn’t going to tell anyone anything.”

“Oh really. And why is that?”

“Because she’s the contact I told you about. She’s in on the whole thing.”

That little tidbit zipped through her brain, hitting all the necessary compartments needed to read between the lines. Her eyes widened. “So we didn’t have to…”

“Make such a big production?” he said with a wide smile. She noticed for the first time he had shallow dimples hidden beneath the short beard growth, adding to his panty-melting charm. Why were all the assholes so damn gorgeous? “Yeah, I know, but I figured we should get in the practice. Besides, now we’ve gotten our first fight out of the way.”

“Oh, you have
no
idea—”

“Secondly,” he said, interrupting her would-be rant as he dropped his amusement as easily as removing a mask, “contrary to your belief, I know exactly how to treat a woman. In
every
aspect.”

The charming, good-natured man she’d met had been obliterated by the serious one now standing before her. Vanessa had a feeling that
this
man—a man who could no doubt grant a lover’s every desire or conjure an enemy’s every nightmare—was his true self.

Something had stolen the air from the room. Topaz eyes burned into her, heating her body from the inside out and creating warmth between her legs from the suggestion his words lent. Words. Where were
her
words? She was never speechless. She argued for a living, for shit’s sake.

This man is Dangerous. Capital
D
intended.

Considering she wasn’t planning on going toe-to-toe with him in a cage any time soon, the threat of danger wasn’t to her physical person—unless earth-shattering orgasms had the potential to land her in a hospital—but to her emotional sanity.

Then, like the wind changing directions after a storm, he released her arm and the intensity and brought back the happy. Just. Like. That. “Now that we have that out of the way, I’d like to take you to an apology lunch.”

She had to tell her brain to stop analyzing his peculiar personality switches and fast-forward to his newest attempt at taking control of their situation. Clearing her throat, she smoothed her hands down her shirt and crossed her arms. “I’ve already eaten.”

“Okay, lunch is out. We’ll go get a drink on the beach.”

Damn, that sounded good. Not to mention there was a tiny part of her that wanted to know what he’d be like in a public setting, now that she knew the whole thing with Jilli was just his twisted way of amusing himself.
Bastard.

“Sorry, but I have things to do. But don’t let me stop you. You should go enjoy yourself.”

He bit the inside of his cheek as his eyes narrowed in contemplation. “Reid said you’d be a tough opponent.”

“Reid’s a very smart man.”

“Come on, give a guy a chance to atone for his sins. You had to deal with a lot of my shit today. Let me make it up to you. We’ll have some drinks and start fresh.”

She’d definitely earned a drink. Hell, she’d earned several, in her opinion. Maybe if she let him buy the drink, he’d back off the rest of the week and she wouldn’t have to constantly avoid the distraction he was so capable of being. “Fine. We’ll go for one drink and call it square. Deal?”

He let loose that spectacular smile, accentuating the strong lines of his stubble-covered jaw. “Deal.” He clapped his hands together and made for the door. She followed him and then stopped as soon as he walked onto the porch.

“I’ll change and meet you at the bar in ten.” And with that, she closed the door on his too-handsome-for-his-own-good face.

Brushing her hands off from a job well done, she started to turn away when she heard him yell, “Why don’t you go ahead and get changed? I’ll meet you at the bar.” She could just barely make out the muffled sound of laughter as he walked away.

…

The Moana Bar sat in the center of the Mau Loa’s pristine beach, less than fifty yards from the ocean. An open square bar in the middle of the sand with stools on all four sides. Like most things in Hawaii, it sported a polished wood structure under a thatched roof with strings of lanterns to act as beacons in the night to thirsty guests. Surrounding that, small tables with umbrellas were scattered in the sand for patrons to sit and eat at or people-watch while they sipped their drinks.

The atmosphere was a fusion of native and tourism: the crescendo of the ocean waves rushing toward the shore, the conversations and laughter of the resort’s patrons, and the raucous antics of the bartenders entertaining with spinning bottles of liquor like scenes from
Cocktail
.

Jackson stood at the bar, enjoying the Heineken in his hand and the memory of Vanessa’s reaction to the unnecessary act they’d put on for Jilli. A reaction he’d cut short with his declaration of knowing how to treat a woman, and by the look on her face, it had set things spinning in her head she did
not
want there. Which made it all the more fun.

Of course, that fun was about to come to a screeching halt. Once he plied her with a drink or two, he needed to tell her the truth. They’d talk to the planner, explain the situation, and Vanessa would be free to make the wedding arrangements and be herself for the rest of her stay.

While despising him and avoiding him like the plague.

Jax took a swig of his beer and wanted to kick his own ass. He wouldn’t be in this situation if he’d have just shown up on time like he was supposed to. Then again, if he hadn’t been late he probably wouldn’t have seen the spitfire side of her that intrigued him in the first place, compelling him to spew lies so she couldn’t dismiss and avoid him for the entire week. Of course, this was the most asinine thing he’d done since thinking he could still spar when he forgot his cup. Now he’d be damned if he told her the truth and damned if he didn’t. Fuck.

With all the noise, there was no way he’d be able to hear Vanessa coming, which made it all the more odd when he felt compelled to look over his shoulder the moment she approached the table area.

Winding her way through the erratic seating arrangement, she swung her hips to avoid chairs in her path. Either that, or to make every man in a fifty-yard radius forget his point mid-sentence.

Emerald scraps of cloth clung to her breasts with nothing but a gold ring nestled in her cleavage to hold the sides together. The purpose of the white netted skirt tied low around her hips was a mystery. Although it hid the general design and cut of her bottoms, it slashed diagonally to the mid-thigh of her left leg, leaving the creamy expanse of her right leg prominently on display.

As she approached the bar, Jackson assessed her over the top of his mirrored shades and let out a soft whistle. “You vacationing or entering the swimsuit competition in the Miss America pageant?”

Sliding onto the stool next to where he stood, she began, “You see, Jackson—”

“My friends call me Jax.”

Vanessa pushed her tortoise shell sunglasses up on her head and regarded him with a twinkle in her green eyes. “Ah, like those annoying pointy little things for kids that always seem to be underfoot.” She nodded as though all the world’s mysteries suddenly made sense. “I so get that.”

Damn, he liked her spunk. “I’ll just bet you do,” he said, giving her a huge smile he didn’t have to fake.

“As I was saying,
Jackson
,” she emphasized with a saccharin-sweet grin, “a girl should always look her best. She never knows when she might meet a handsome stranger at a beach bar who can rescue her from her lunch date.”

“Drink date.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Semantics.”

Gesturing for the bartender, she ordered herself a Blue Hawaiian, or as she called it, “That big blue thingy I keep seeing.” How adorably tourist.

“Unfortunately, you can’t get rid of me. How would it look if Lucie left Reid to cavort around the island with another man the week of her wedding?” He didn’t bother mentioning he planned on leaving
her
after they shared their drinks and he came clean about his impulsive fibbing streak.

“Sadly, you’re right. But next week, while Reid and Lucie are enjoying their honeymoon on a Mediterranean cruise, I’ll still be here and incredibly available.”

Jax’s gut twisted at the images of a sexy Vanessa being fawned over by every man within a square mile. His brain told him it was none of his damn business how she spent her vacation, and logically speaking, he knew it was right. Unfortunately, he’d always been a man who followed his gut.

Her Blue Hawaiian arrived, and she didn’t waste any time sampling it. Lifting the large bowled glass, she sipped the electric blue liquid, made a sound of approval that tightened his groin, then licked the sugar on her lips she’d lifted from the rim.

Clearing his throat to disguise a groan, he ordered a second Heineken and then killed his first. By now, the idea of her spending time with random locals was on its way to giving him an ulcer. His other half—the side he fully acknowledged was more caveman than gentleman—was trying to claw his way free.

Tamping down his irrational shit, he thanked the bartender for the new beer and kept things light. “You know, as your personal host, I feel I’d be shirking my responsibilities if I allowed a bunch of jerks to circle you like sharks around chum.”

“I’m sorry,” she said with a look of disbelief, “did you just refer to me as fish guts?”

“You
are
a lawyer.” Wink. Drink.

She laughed in the same way his buddy Corey did when they got into a good-natured pissing match about who was the better fighter. “Okay, Maris, I’m giving you fair warning.” She gestured back and forth between them. “When
this
is over with, I have every intention of finding some hot Hawaiian hunk to entertain me for a few days. And should you interfere in any way, shape, or form, I’ll be forced to hurt you.”

Chuckling, he removed his shades, set them on the bar, and leveled her with patronizing amusement. “
You
hurt
me
? That’s adorable; truly it is.” She opened her mouth to fire back, but he didn’t give her the chance. “I will say I’m glad you’ve decided to have fun with a local boy while you’re here, though.”

Her mouth closed and a small furrow creased her brow. He loved it when strategy worked.

Crossing his forearms on the bar, he slowly leaned toward her. Her exotic citrusy scent filled his lungs, the smell so intoxicating he resented the need to exhale. Trying to ignore the pang of desire, he lowered his voice and layered on the suggestive tone. “I’m local. Think I might be the man for the job?”

Staring up at him, her jaw slackened, opening her mouth a bit. Testing the waters, he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and let it drag itself free. Her eyes dropped and fixated, darkening with interest.

And Bingo was his name-o.

“I think that’s a yes, princess.” He allowed himself the satisfaction of a half smile before bringing his beer up for a victory sip.

Snapping out of her temporary trance, she let out an indignant huff. “Please. You have heat stroke if you think I’d even let you
apply
for the job.”

Laughing at her indignation, Jackson pried his eyes from Vanessa’s long enough to sign his tab. Points for him. It was a damn hard thing to accomplish. She was so different from the women he’d been around the last decade. Island girls typically had happy-go-lucky, easy-going, go-with-the-flow personalities. But she was full of opposites. Fire and ice. Both the calm
and
the storm.

And her eyes were the purest shade of green. They weren’t brownish green or hazel green. She turned her head in his direction, rewarding him with the very things that mesmerized him, even if it was in the form of a glare. He looked for the telltale, barely visible rim revealing them as counterfeits…and found none.

“You don’t wear contacts,” he stated.

A feathery eyebrow hitched up her forehead. “You say that like you’re surprised.”

“I am. Usually color like that only comes from cosmetic lenses. I’ve never seen authentic eyes the shade of yours before.” A small sigh accompanied a roll of said beautiful eyes. Amused at her assumption, he added, “That wasn’t a line.”

“You’ve been throwing innuendos at me since the airport, Jackson. Why wouldn’t I think that was a line?”

He dropped one arm from the counter and turned his entire body toward her. She was taller than most women—he guessed somewhere around five-nine, five-ten—but at six-four he still had a huge advantage. Especially since she was sitting and he wasn’t.