Wishful Sinful (Rock Royalty Book 5) (12 page)

Honey yanked her foot from his hold and reached for her sandal, slipping it on and jumping to her feet. “See you later, Walsh. Thanks.”

“Where’re you going?”

“I want to check out the view from the top.”

“I’ll go with you. We need to talk.”

Instead of answering him, she continued her climb. He fell in behind her, watching as she nimbly moved up the path.

“Listen, Honey.” Hell, he’d been stupid. Why had he kissed her? “I’m sorry about what happened on the plane.”

“You’ve said that. It wasn’t your fault.”

“It’s put this awkwardness between us. I don’t like that.”

She paused for a moment, and he watched her shoulders go up and down on a sigh. “Okay. You’re right. It’s made things weird.”

“Yeah.” He forked his hand through his hair. “Here’s the deal. I’m a man. You’re a woman.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder. “You really noticed?”

Uh, yeah
. But he’d spent two years pretending he didn’t. “I know you have girl parts, Honey,” he said, his tone dry.

That ass, those legs, the breasts that he’d imagined as he’d shopped in the boutique for her.

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Okay, you’re not blind.”

“And I’m not dumb, either. I’m not going to do anything further to threaten our working relationship. I value that, very highly as a matter of fact, and I definitely don’t want to make you feel weird.”

Now she turned fully around and studied his face. “All right,” she said, nodding. She pretended to wipe a board clean. “It never happened. Weirdness erased.”

“Agreed.”

With another nod, she turned and continued on the path. They were alone, the other adventurous hikers having already made it to the top of the falls and then, presumably, gone over. Walsh supposed Honey, with her fear of flying, would elect to walk back down.

At the summit, she paused on the bank of the shallow river that dropped over the lip of the cliff. Smooth stones protruded from the water’s surface, and the current didn’t seem dangerous, but his protective instincts kicked in.

“Be careful,” he said, grabbing for her hand.

His fingertips grazed her flesh as she leaped onto one of the round boulders in the rushing stream.

“Be careful,” he said again.

“I’m fine.” She picked her way across the stones until she was in the center, eighteen inches from the edge over which the water flowed. Then she moved one rock closer to the brink, throwing him a mischievous glance as she pretended to bobble, her arms wind-milling.

Even knowing she was teasing him, he still couldn’t help himself. He waded into the water, the wet invading his running shoes as he reached for her waist to steady her. That only made her laugh, and she leaped to another boulder, eluding his hold.

She grinned from her new perch, then glanced around her. “God, this is beautiful. Don’t you think it’s amazing?”

It touched something deep inside him, this carefree side of his usually sober admin. It seemed to go with the entire other-worldly aspect of the day. He was acting out of character as well—abandoning a promising business prospect to chase after this colorful, playful version of Honey.

With sunlight in her hair and a smile in her eyes, she seemed to have left behind her usual worries. The stiffness between them since the flight completely evaporated…maybe because standing on top of a waterfall washed away their usual masks, as well as the roles they played in the conference room. What remained were two people…

A man and a woman.

Her gaze shifted to his and they stared at each other, the sexual awareness he’d always denied or ignored or excused adding new heat to the air. His blood seemed to turn heavy, chugging through his veins with a primal rhythm. Her tongue came out to moisten her lips, and his muscles tensed, every one of them
hard
. He wanted that mouth again. He wanted that body beneath him, her legs around his hips, his pulsing cock surging, invading, stretching her tight heat.

Lust tunneled his vision, and Honey stood at the end of it, a golden prize to be plucked and plundered.

Without thinking beyond that, he moved toward her with single-minded intent, stepping atop the smooth boulder at the edge of the drop. For a moment all was fine, then the wet sole of his shoe slid on the slick surface, unbalancing him. He saw Honey’s eyes go wide as he felt the world tilt.

Uh-oh.

Then he toppled, tumbling over the brink.

Shit
, he thought as air rushed past him.
Shiiiit.
Feet first, he hit the cool water, his body plunging into the depths of the pool.

He surfaced behind the waterfall, the cascade creating a screen between him and the frolickers in the pond. Tossing back his wet hair, he gulped in a breath and then saw another body shoot up beside his. Someone had followed right after him.

Honey’s head broke free of the water.

“Oh thank God,” she said, and then she launched herself at him, her legs twining his hips just as he’d imagined. With her fingers shoved in his hair, she crushed her wet mouth to his.

His hands clamped on her ass. And as his tongue sank deep into the hot, desperate kiss, he realized something.

This didn’t feel weird. No, not at all.

It felt, fuck, so right.

“Then I basically attacked him,” Honey said. In the resort’s spa, she lay on a table beside Dayna. They were both having facials, and it was much easier to talk to her new friend about this with her eyes covered by pads soaked in a cooling liquid.

“How did he react?”

“Um…” She cleared her throat. “The kiss was over, really, almost the instant it began. Somebody else jumped into the pond right beside us. We broke apart and I swam to shore.”

“No big deal then,” Dayna said. “It’s completely understandable. You were reacting to him falling over the edge. If he questions it, you tell him you were merely relieved he was okay, that’s all.”

“He’ll understand the relief, I guess.” Then Honey found herself telling the other woman about their scare on the plane…and the hot embrace that had followed.

“Oh.”

Honey peeled off one eye pad and glanced over. Dayna was gazing back. Her eye coverings had been removed, and her aesthetician was now cleansing her face with a damp cloth. “Is there something going on between you and your boss?”

“No!”

“Do you
want
something to go on between you and your boss?”

“The obvious answer to that is
he’s my boss
.”

Their conversation was halted as Honey’s own aesthetician began massaging her face, neck and throat with short, firm strokes.

“To remove toxins,” the woman said in her musical voice.

Maybe it could remove the memories of those kisses. Or better yet, the attraction that kept rearing its unwelcome head.

You work for him, Honey,
she reminded herself
. He’s off limits.

Finally she and Dayna were sitting up again, their skin clean and moisturized, their hair still wrapped in turbans. The strands were being deep-conditioned as they received manicures and pedicures.

Besides the Walsh situation, Honey had another concern. “Do you really think my cut’s going to be okay?”

The stylist and Dayna had convinced her to have her back to the mirror when he’d worked his scissors, so she hadn’t seen the results of his efforts. Then the conditioning product had been applied. The final spa treatment scheduled was the washing and arranging of Honey’s new ’do.

The possible outcome made her stomach churn almost as much as the memory of kissing Walsh in the pond.

His palms had been hard on her bottom, his mouth ravenous. She’d fisted her hands in his hair, gripping the wet strands as she held his head to hers.

And then a shout followed by a huge splash had snapped them back to reality.

Yanking her lips from his, she’d gulped in a breath then sank beneath the water and stroked straight for shore. By the time he’d arrived, she’d been standing beside Dayna and York, wringing out her hair. On the hike back to the resort, she’d stuck close to the pair and upon arrival had headed off to the spa without making a stop in the villa she shared with her boss, choosing to shower in the facilities at the salon.

When she faced him again…

Argh.

“I can feel your wheels spinning from here,” Dayna said. Her nails were being painted a tropical green.

Honey had selected a more conservative pale pink, with a bluish shimmer like the inside of an abalone shell. “What have I done?”

“Is this about your hair or about making out with the man who signs your paychecks?”

“The hair will grow.” She squeezed shut her eyes. “Those kisses can’t be taken back.” How would she forget them?

“There’s a couple of ways to handle this,” Dayna said. “You throw yourself into the weekend fling idea—”

“In all honesty, I don’t know if I’m cut out for one.” Honey hung her head. “I’ve only had a couple of relationships, and I didn’t go into them to scratch an itch. I hoped they might be…more.”

“You’re looking for the whole thing, then? A grand passion?”

“And deep abiding love.” Honey grimaced. “I know, call me romantic.”

“Or surprising. I thought you might be more cynical after what you’ve said about your parents’ bitter divorce.”

“I’m stubborn, too. I know some people find their soul mate.” She thought of Ren and Cilla, Reed and Cleo, and the other Rock Royalty pairs. “So why would I settle for something less?”

“All right.” Dayna nodded, her expression sage. “It’s Door Number Two, then.”

“What’s Door Number Two?”

“An affair with Walsh.”

Honey’s whole body twitched, jerking her hand free of the manicurist’s.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, extending it again as she stared at her friend. “That’s a terrible plan.”

“It’s totally necessary. It’s the way to get past this fixation you have—unless you think he might be your Forever?”

She twitched again. “That would make me a fool. The man for me will go whole-hearted into a relationship.
So
not Walsh.” Who had revolving bed partners, a second-date gift strategy, and a
list
.

The stylist returned, saving Honey from further discussion. At the shampoo sink, she closed her eyes and hoped Dayna’s suggestion would go down the drain with the suds. Back in the salon chair, she was once again turned away from the mirror as the man fussed with her hair. No round brush like she usually used was in evidence. The blow-dryer was set on low as he scrunched and fiddled and tweaked. Finally, he spun her around.

Honey stared.

“Wow,” she said, her voice faint. “I knew my hair was curly. I grew it long to keep it straighter.”

Dayna popped up behind her. “Now you’re going to work those ringlets instead of trying to mold them into something else.”

“I
look
like someone else.” Her usual bangs were swept to the right from a deep side part. Then what had once fallen past her shoulders now bounced just below her ears in soft, loose curls that framed her face.

“Maybe you look like a girl meant for a fling, huh?”

Honey continued studying her reflection. The new style drew attention to her eyes and her mouth. She looked…pouty. No, maybe sultry was a better word, given that she had a faint sunburn across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.

“Sexy,” she finally decided, her gaze meeting her friend’s in the glass. “I kind of look...sexy.”

“Sweetly sexy,” Dayna said. “It’s the curls. They suit you.”

Sweetly sexy
. At the idea, a little shiver of pleasure rolled down Honey’s back.

Examining her new style again, she decided it revealed something about herself that she’d been hiding from behind that mass of hair and to-the-eyebrows bangs. She was a woman. A sexual being. Perhaps…perhaps grand passion could wait. The female in the mirror deserved a few nights of scorching sin, didn’t she?

She inhaled a deep breath. “Yes. Maybe I
am
a girl meant for a fling.”

Dayna grinned. “That’s the attitude I’m talking about.”

Then Honey frowned. “But before the cocktail party I’m going to have to talk to Walsh about it.”

“Say what?” Her friend’s smile died.

“We’re in the same villa. Obviously I can’t bring some man back there with me.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Normally, of course, I wouldn’t discuss with him a subject so personal, but I’d better let him know I might be with someone for a few hours. Maybe even overnight.” She placed the palm of her hand against her nervous mid-section. Was she really going to do this?

“What do you expect his reaction will be?”

Honey fluffed her curls with the palm of her hand and watched them bounce back into place. “He won’t have one, as long as I assure him I’ll be on hand for business as usual in the morning.”

“If you say so.” Dayna sounded skeptical. “We better find you the perfect dress for this professional discussion you’re about to engage in.”

It was close to the appointed hour of the cocktail party when Honey let herself into the villa. Walsh’s bedroom door was shut, but she could hear the faint sound of water coming from his
en suite
bathroom. She crossed to her room where she stowed the bag that held her discarded day clothes and scooped up a pair of the strappy sandals that had come from the boutique.

Once they were on, she was too antsy to remain still. She paced into the living area, forcing herself not to fidget with the lines of Dayna’s borrowed dress. Instead of basic black, it was an icy blue lace, its V-neckline embellished with soft-edged roses made of more coiled fabric. It was short, to the middle of her thighs, but neither the bodice nor the hem made her as nervous as the back. It dipped so low that she worried about rear cleavage. A thin string tied at the middle of her back was supposed to keep it decent.

As an experiment, she strolled about the room. The good news was, if she found a fling-material man, it wouldn’t take him long to get her out of the dress. A pull on that bow, and the entire garment would drop. Beneath it she didn’t wear much.

Correction, she didn’t wear
anything
.