The Honeymoon Trap (4 page)

Zoey was so busy gaping that it took her a while to realize that quite a few people were gaping back. Her costume drew the eye; her costumes always commanded attention. She wouldn’t have been doing her job properly if they hadn’t.

What she
wasn’t
used to was feeling all hot and bothered beneath the steady gaze of a beautiful grey-eyed man. A man whose shoulders strained the seams of his T-shirt. A man whose jeans and steel-capped work boots should have looked out of place here, only they didn’t because they were on
him
and he was spectacular. He needed no costume to draw the eye, there were plenty of people looking his way, though he didn’t seem to notice.

Zoey rummaged in her reticule for her phone. The reticule was a replica of an 1880’s museum piece, the phone was pure modern convenience. One click and she’d captured him, and then – as if sensing her presence – he turned and looked her way and she caught him on camera again.

He moved towards her and Zoey felt her breath catch. There was a physicality about Eli Jackson that spoke of action rather than words, a grace that implied perfect balance and a commanding strength.

‘I have our room keys,’ he said when he reached her.

‘I need to make you a top coat.’

‘You really don’t.’

Not a big conversationalist, Eli, but she knew that of old. It had taken months of online gaming before he’d even ventured a
hey, Fuzzy, you there?
by way of greeting. Eli was shy. Zoey was not. That they complemented each other when gaming online didn’t necessarily mean that putting them together in person would produce similar results.

The man was uncomfortable in her presence, and maybe it was the costume, and maybe it was his innate shyness winning out, or maybe, just maybe it was because he sensed her sexual interest in him and he didn’t like it. Maybe it was time to stop looking at him and wondering what it might be like to have him lean a little closer and put his big hand to her waist and smile just for her.

There were twenty-nine floors to this hotel and their suite was on the top one. The recessed entry area and motion sensor chandelier promised good things to come.

And then they were in and there was more marble, and ornately carved wooden furniture and the fabrics, oh, the fabrics. Zoey took one look at the plum-colored velvet drapes and started peeling her gloves off, draping them over the back of the nearest chair as she crossed the room and reached out to touch luscious looking velvet. One stroke, and then another, and then she was gathering up the fabric and draping it across her body, reveling in the thickness of the pile and the softness beneath her fingers. ‘I think it’s silk. Do you think they’d miss it?’

He laughed as if he couldn’t help it and she hid her delighted response behind a swathe of velvet curtain as she looked around and spotted a table for two, groaning with silverware, fine linen and candles. A bottle of champagne stood on ice next to a silver bowl full of strawberries. Her grin widened. ‘We should get married more often. Where’s the bedroom?’ Not that she’d be sleeping in it. The day bed over by the other window would sleep her easily, but the fabrics in here were amazing and she wanted to see what the bed was wearing.

Eli looked around and headed for the louvered panels that ran the length of one wall. He slid the middle pair apart and then the next, and then the next, and there stood a huge four poster bed covered with silks and cushions in every bold color imaginable. Behind the bed, on the wall, hung a mirror that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a Renaissance palace. The carpet was snowy white, not a blemish on it, and there was such a thing as embroidered silk wallpaper because she was looking at it. Eli looked from her to the bed and back.

‘Suits you,’ he said.

‘It’s okay to roll in it, right?’ And then she was on the bed, face down, with her arms flung wide, half-buried in pillows and her hat was on the floor, most likely, and she had her knees bent and her boots were in the air because her boots had buckles, and buckles weren’t welcome on this fabric thank you very much. She sat up abruptly, swung her feet over the edge and leaned forward to unbuckle her boots, smiling up at the ever gorgeous Eli.

He looked a little perturbed.

‘It’s okay, I’ll take the day bed by the window,’ she told him. ‘You’re just going to let me swim in this bed for a while and hug all the pillows as I examine every bit of fabric.’

‘Of… course.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I am. You can do that. Nothing weirdly sexy about that at all. Wonder if they have beer?’

‘I’m sure they have beer.’ Zoey finished kicking off her boots and slid from the bed, letting her toes curl into that snowy white carpet. She barely managed to contain her appreciative groan. ‘How about I find you the bar fridge, while you pour me some champagne. I’m into exploration.’ She skipped from the bedroom, skirting the sunken lounge area and slid open the louvered doors on the
other
side of the central suite area.

Not bar fridge.

Bathroom.

Champagne popped as she surveyed the cacophony of marble and mirrors with a spa bath that you had to step up into. Chances were it was going to take a while to fill it, although given the size of the square shower head, maybe not. The towels were white and almost as plush to the touch as the curtains had been. They hadn’t skimped on the fragrant soaps either. Zoey closed her eyes and breathed in deep and finally let the air leave her lungs with a happy sigh. ‘I’m becoming less and less interested in the gaming convention by the minute.’ She opened a bathroom cupboard and found a generous range of face and body creams. ‘I love looking for beer.’

‘I’ve found it.’

‘Oh.’ Zoey whirled about and shot him a smile. ‘Excellent.’ She joined him by the table and he handed her a tall flute full of champagne. ‘Healer.’ She tilted her flute towards his beer and he clinked it and there was that sweet smile again.

‘Fuzzy.’

She probably would be soon, what with all that champagne. ‘Here’s to our honeymoon.’

‘That’s really disturbing.’ But he drank to it anyway and Zoey tried not to get hung up on the place where beer bottle met lips.

A discreet rap on the door signaled the arrival of their luggage and Zoey beamed as two porters set the bags in the bedroom and silently withdrew. Three rolling suitcases for Zoey, one scuffed olive green canvas carryall for Eli.

Eli looked at the three big suitcases, opened his mouth and then shut it again without uttering a word. Oh, she
liked
this man. ‘So what do you want to do for the rest of the afternoon?’

‘Thought I might go for a swim.’

To do that she would have to get out of her dress. She didn’t want to get out of her dress just yet. Hard to say whether she could get out of it at all, given that it had taken both her and Sophie’s efforts to get her into it, and the corset beneath. ‘I’m just going to sit here and pretend I’m a countess for a while. Save the swimming for tomorrow. Do you swim every day, Eli?’

He nodded. Looked around as if searching for escape. Or maybe he was just after privacy.

‘Feel free to change into your bathers in the bathroom.’ She picked up a strawberry, perched on the day bed and smiled encouragingly. ‘I’ll be right here.’

He didn’t look reassured. She watched him retrieve his carryall and shut the bathroom door behind him. Didn’t mean she couldn’t still talk to him. He was only exchanging one set of clothes for another. ‘So what kind of boats do you like, Eli? Are you a yachtsman or are powerboats more your thing?’

‘I like both. Jackson’s builds both.’

‘Jackson’s is the family business, right? I looked it up. Not in a stalkerish kind of way. More of a wanting to know if you were who your brothers said you were kind of way.’

‘I can understand that.’

He talked more freely when he wasn’t looking at her. Perhaps he wasn’t used to women in full gownage. ‘You said the guy you were sharing with had to pull out and that’s why you had a spare ticket. And so you thought of me.’

Silence.

‘I mean, people share convention rooms all the time in order to cut costs. And if you’re the gregarious type it makes sense to share.’ Only he wasn’t the gregarious type. ‘Why didn’t you come on your own?’

‘I’m working on stepping outside my comfort zone.’

‘So my vague suspicion that your brothers somehow put you up to this is wrong?’

‘Maybe not that wrong.’ He sounded resigned. ‘Are you asking me if I want to be here?’

‘Do you want to be here?’

‘I’m looking forward to the swim.’

‘You can swim at home.’

‘Different beach.’ He hadn’t answered her question. ‘I’m looking forward to checking out the computer games,’ he offered as the bathroom doors peeled open, revealing Eli Jackson in bare feet and dark blue board shorts, his T-shirt still firmly in place.

‘Which are you?’ she asked him. ‘Boat builder, dive master, charter boat operator or fisherman?’

‘I do them all, although these days I deal mostly with the boat building side of things.’

Zoey sighed and sipped at her champagne. The man was damn near perfect.

He cleared his throat. Zoey figured she might just have been staring at him and daydreaming. Again.

‘I’m just going to go for that swim now,’ he offered. ‘Out there.’

‘Have fun.’

‘People keep saying that to me,’ he muttered. ‘As if I don’t.’

Interesting. ‘I’m saying it because it’s something nice to say to someone I barely know. So.’ She reached for the bowl of strawberries, the whole lot, and set about selecting another one. ‘Go. Swim, work off some of that restless edge – don’t think I can’t see it because it’s very shiny – and then come back relaxed and vaguely exhausted, possibly hungry. I
might
even leave you some strawberries… Or I may have ordered room service by then and you can have some of that. Regardless, rest assured that
I
will be having fun.’

She glanced up at him beneath overly long lashes, just in time to see a crooked smile on his face before he quickly smoothed it out into something altogether more bland.

‘Hey, Zoey… I forgot to say earlier that it’s good to finally meet you in person.’ He was edging towards the door, no towel, no sunscreen, nothing on his feet. The patrons of the Palace Venexiana were in for such a treat. ‘It’s really good to see you.’

‘Likewise, Eli.’ The door closed behind him with a quiet click. ‘Likewise.’

Z
oey watched from
the hotel window as Eli waded into the surf, not a shred of fear in him for the roiling mess that constituted the surf of the day or the ginormous, dumping waves. Only a few brave souls were in the water and Zoey was glad she hadn’t agreed to join him. She loved to swim, but one look at those conditions would have had her heading for the nearest nice tame swimming pool, the kind where if you asked nicely, someone would bring you a drink with a little umbrella in it. She watched some more as Eli disappeared beneath the whitewash of a wave and popped up on the other side, sleek as a seal. Not an easy man to know, or understand.

But boy was he an easy one to sigh over.

Zoey picked up her phone and pulled up Sophie’s number. A promise was a promise – she’d call her sister once a day. ‘Hey, Soph.’

‘Well?’ Sophie sounded harried. She probably had a café full of customers. ‘How is it?’

‘He’s hot. Unbelievably hot.’ Zoey watched as Eli disappeared beneath another huge wave. ‘He’s probably part Selkie.’

‘Don’t do anything stupid.’

‘Like try and bed him? I’m tempted. Very, very tempted. The hotel had double booked themselves, every room, so they started farming people out to other hotels. They’ve put us in a suite at the Palace Venexiana.’

‘Seriously? You’re staying at a six-star hotel? In a suite?’

‘Cross my erratically beating heart.’

‘I want pictures.’

‘You’ll get them. Speaking of which, this is Eli.’ Zoey stopped talking and sent a photo through, the one where Eli was looking straight at her. Then she took a pic of the honeymoon suite and sent that too.

And then there was silence.

‘Are you there?’

‘Un huh.’

‘What do you think of the room?’

‘I’m still absorbing the
other
photo.’

‘It does take a while. He’s very sweet.’

‘How can a man who looks like that be sweet?’

‘It’s a mystery, but it’s one I’m willing to explore.’ The clatter of dishes telegraphed that Sophie was busy. ‘Why don’t you come up here on Sunday night and stay most of Monday?’ The café was shut on Monday. It was supposed to be Sophie’s day off, not that she ever took the day off. Monday was the day she restocked café supplies.

‘Can’t.’

‘You can if you want to.’

‘I don’t want to.’

‘Yeah, you do,’ Zoey teased gently. ‘You just don’t know it yet. So I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?’

‘Take care,’ Sophie warned.

‘You know I always do.’

Eli headed for the side entrance to the hotel, the one he’d discovered on the way out, every muscle in his body beaten into submission by one of the roughest surfs he’d ever had the pleasure of encountering. No good for boards but just right for a man whose body was demanding one thing while his brain was screaming hell no. No hitting on the Zoey wife in the honeymoon suite. No wondering whether the body beneath the voluminous folds of her gown was as slim and lithe as her slender arms and neck suggested. No looking at her lips and wondering if they really were as soft as they looked. No looking into her eyes and wanting to smile.

Maybe she wouldn’t want to stay in tonight. Maybe the gown would come off and she’d turn into the type of girl he was used to, given that there were always plenty clamoring around his brothers. Ones who were comfortable in jeans and skimpy tops and didn’t mind grabbing a pizza or a burger from the bar and grill down the road. One who didn’t have a habit of draping herself in velvet and biting into strawberries as if they were the sweetest things she’d ever tasted.

He
was sweet.

Apparently.