Concierge. That’s probably where she gets all of her gossip from. They know pretty much everything. Makes sense.
I pass through the lobby without anybody else even glancing up at me. I may as well have been wearing a disguise.
Chapter Twelve
Kaylee
I make my way up to Chase’s room carrying my beach bag, which has the ring and the bikini in it among other things.
I knock on the door and he opens it quickly. I’m wearing jeans and a tank top. Chase is already dressed in loose fitting, bright-orange board shorts and sandals. And nothing else. I inhale as I admire his naked chest.
And then, all of a sudden, nothing can keep my eyeline above the equator. Which is crazy. I’ve already seen him naked. Well, it was pretty dark last night. I haven’t really seen him, seen him. And I guess I’m curious. What girl doesn’t want to check out her fake fiancé’s package in board shorts?
The answer is to the left and very impressive. I force my eyes back up and find the dimple in his cheek and a smirk on his lips. “Sorry, a girl can’t help but look.”
“I get it,” he says with a hungry look on his face that makes my stomach clench and my pulse take off. “As long as I’m also allowed to peek. Please tell me you have a bathing suit in that bag. Especially after your whole dramatic speech about appropriate beach attire.”
“I guess I have that coming.”
“Hey, I have the perfect lounge chair picked out,” he says excitedly. “Concierge is setting it up right now, front and center.”
“Front and center, eh?” I point to my beach bag. “Don’t worry. I’m well versed in how to make people jealous on the beach.”
“That’s not exactly what we’re doing, but close enough. Now we should discuss strategy.”
“Not interested,” I say, heading to his bedroom to change. He follows me. I throw the yellow beach bag with red handles onto the bed.
Realizing that he followed me, I turn and take a step toward him. Then I get on my tiptoes so that we are nearly face to face.
He leans his head down toward mine. I don’t know what he thinks is going to happen here, but my plan is to resist repeating last night at all costs, no matter how tempted I am.
“Remember this morning. From here on out, this is nothing more than a business transaction. I’m helping you and you’re helping me, and we’re hiding the truth from everybody. Fake fiancé, remember? That means no actual fiancé activities.”
“But what if we’ve already done fiancé activities?” he objects.
“That was a one-time thing and will not be repeated,” I say as I cross the room and pull the red sequined bikini out of my bag.
“Oh, by the way, how did you know that ring was going to fit?”
“I did the pinky thing.”
“What pinky thing?” I ask.
He follows me over to the bed. “There’s an old rule of thumb, or pinky, as the case may be. If the woman’s ring finger fits the man’s pinky, they’re a match. It’s all I had to go by on short notice. So you’re saying it fit?”
“It fits perfectly,” I admit. He’s way too proud of himself. And aww. That’s really kind of sweet. With that mystery solved, I shoo him out and shut the bedroom door. Presumably to change.
Only I decide to take a couple of extra minutes to poke around before getting into my bikini. It’s impossible not to be nosy. I mean, a girl can’t be too careful these days who she gets fake engaged to.
I take off my clothes, folding them and placing them on his bed. Then I pull on the bikini. I cross into the gigantic bathroom to get a look because it has a better mirror. As expected, the bathing suit is way, way over the top. Red with sequins, and barely more than a string bikini. Good thing I had a wax recently, or I’d be in trouble right now.
Oh yeah, back to snooping. A quick rummage in his bathroom cabinet reveals nothing more than toiletry products that probably cost a year of my salary and a bottle of Tylenol.
Boring. I go back to the bed, take out my sheer pullover, and put it on. Then I rummage through my bag to find the ring. It’s so sparkly. I put it on and admire how shiny it is and how well it fits. It’s more than everything I ever wanted, but it still feels strange to be wearing an engagement ring. Especially since the engagement itself isn’t real.
I break out of the diamond ring trance I find myself in. Then I decide to rifle through his nightstand.
Huh, there is something interesting in there. Something in a pouch. I open it up. Inside there’s a small device that’s unfamiliar and appears to be battery operated. I switch it on just as he knocks and enters the room in rapid succession.
“Rude,” I say. “I could have been naked.”
“I’ve seen you naked already, remember?” Then he catches me with the device in my hand. “Are you snooping?” His smile is so big now that a second dimple threatens to erupt. “Having fun with my beard trimmer? I can have one sent up to you if you like.”
I feel my cheeks turn crimson and out of reflex, hide it behind my back. Then I realize that’s not the power move I think it is. Especially since it’s still on and buzzing. “Fine, I was snooping.”
His smile fades and it’s replaced by a look of raw hunger as his eyes roam my body through the sheer pullover. He crosses the room until he’s so close that I can inhale his scent. “Oh, I love that bathing suit.”
“Of course you do,” I say, “I’m doing my best to channel my
