You know better.

He did. He had to crush the hope, as applied to him, before either of them got carried away. “Happily ever after just isn’t in the cards for some people.”

“You don’t see yourself falling in love someday, getting married, and—”

“I don’t.” He paused a moment and stared at the shimmering water, waiting for his pulse to settle. You can’t even talk about it without triggering a flight instinct. Fingers of tension dug into the base of his skull. He rolled his shoulders. “Despite my all play and no work reputation, I work a lot. I travel constantly, and I like it that way. Relationships don’t work for me. I’m not cut out for them.”

Chelsea took a sip of wine, and carefully placed her glass on the table before looking at him. The sympathy was back in full force. “Maybe you haven’t met the right girl yet?”

“Maybe I’m not the right guy.” He bit into a scallop to try and cover the terseness of his response. Tonight this particular subject worked a nerve. He was happy, damn it. He led his personal life exactly as he wished, and his professional goals were nearly within his grasp. Things in his world couldn’t be more on-target. Why the discussion, and the way she was looking at him, left him edgy and dissatisfied made no sense. He swallowed, barely appreciating the perfectly seared scallop, and prepared to turn the conversation to an infinitely more interesting topic, like whether she preferred he deliver her next orgasm with his hands or his mouth. His dick was sadly out of the question because after the way they’d gone at each other earlier, it was a miracle she could walk straight. Still, possibilities abounded. Before he could commence an in-depth discussion of them, she broke the brief silence.

“Are you and your sister close?”

Abrupt mental gear shift. He went along with the direction she chose since his sister seemed like a safe topic. “We are.” His mouth stretched into the familiar, slightly exasperated grin Arden always provoked. “She’s six years younger, and a complete bohemian, but I do my best to keep her out of trouble.”

“She lives in New York?”

“She’s nomadic. Overseeing the interior decor and guest room amenities for St. Sebastian keeps her on the move, but a couple years ago, she bought a beach house in Twilight Cove. I own the house next door.”

Chelsea’s eyebrows rose. “The Twilight Cove located south of Montenido?”

He nodded. “Las Ventanas hit my radar shortly after I bought the property.”

Her eyes took on a faraway look and he thought she might pursue the subject of Las Ventanas, but she skipped around the mention of the resort and focused on the other information. “So you and your sister are neighbors. Sounds cozy.” She tipped her head to the side and brushed a wayward curl away from her neck. A quick vision flashed in his mind. Him, undoing her hair, wrapping it around his fist and pulling her head back so he could stare into those faraway eyes as they went blind with pleasure. The image held so much appeal it took him a moment to realize she was speaking.

“I always wanted a sibling.”

He’d read her wrong. It wasn’t a faraway expression after all, but a wistful one. Hoping to tease a laugh out of her, he said, “Your parents denied you that one little wish?”

She smiled, but turned her perfect profile to him and stared at the view. “More like fate.” With that cryptic comment she waved a hand in front of her face as if to brush the conversation away and raised the cover on another plate. “Have you tried the macadamia nut dusted wasabi vegetable rolls? They’re a house specialty.”

The breeze blew a strand of hair across her cheek. He reached over and tucked it behind her ear. “Why no siblings?”

“My dad died when I was six. My mom never remarried, so—”

“No siblings. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She shrugged. “For all I know, I would have gotten a brother who taunted me or a sister who borrowed my clothes without asking. Besides, I had my mom, who’s like two parents packed into one, and my best friend Laurie, who’s like my wilder, cooler, blonder twin.”

He traced the curve of her cheek with his fingertip. “I meant I’m sorry about your father. For better or worse, mine’s exceedingly present in my life. Growing up without yours must have been difficult.”

“Don’t paint me as some poor little middle-class girl.” Though she tossed his words back at him, there was no sarcasm. “Honestly. I don’t want to make light of it, but I barely remember him. Aside from photos and some videos, I only have bits and pieces. He gave really big hugs—the kind that lifted me off my feet. He loved the ocean and swam or surfed almost every day. I always think of him when I smell saltwater and Old Spice. He had a deep voice and used to sing me to sleep with a Billy Joel song about the middle of the night.”

“Sounds like a great dad.”

Her faraway smile made an encore. “He was. I got quality, just not quantity.”

“What accounted for the lack of quantity?” He traced her jawline. Her neck. He couldn’t stop touching her. As if his touch could make up for attention she didn’t even know she missed.

“He worked as the grounds supervisor at Las Ventanas. One random Wednesday he was helping his crew plant baby palms along the walkway to the pool and he collapsed. He died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. Apparently this strong, active guy had an undiagnosed congenital defect in his aorta, which amounted to a ticking time bomb in his chest.”

Congenital. His fingers traced her collarbone to the base of her throat, and then down the center of her chest, honing in on the steady beat of her heart. He flattened his hand against it. “Genetic?”

“No.” She curled her fingers around his wrist. “My heart might be seriously messed up when it comes to, well, matters of the heart, but it pumps just fine.”

The sad little twist of her lips told him she was referring to Barrington, and he felt a strong, gut-churning urge to ruin the bastard. The man sat in his office at Las Ventanas, doing nothing of merit for the resort or the community, while Chelsea—who felt in both a connection to the father she’d barely known—had exiled herself thousands of miles away. Unfair. A part of him wanted to shake her for running, forfeiting the people and places she cared about to Paul and Cindy. Another part simply wanted to do whatever it took to wipe the sad look off her face.

Only one method came to mind. “I have another question.” Her eyes widened and turned a little wary when he stood, stepped around the table, and knelt in front of her chair. He leaned in and put his lips to the spot where his hand had been just moments ago, inhaling coconut and vanilla scents that clung to her skin. “Did you know when the sun hits you at the right angle, I can see through your dress?”

Her heart thumped under his lips, and slender fingers speared into his hair. He eased back a fraction and drew his fingertip along the top of her thigh, inching her skirt up as he went. “Tell me, what do you have on under here?”

“Nothing. You—” She broke off and inhaled as he swept his tongue along the swell of her breast. “You didn’t bring me anything.”

“Did you get a secret thrill out of sitting across from me, eating a civilized dinner while pretending not to know you were teasing my cock?”

Her eyes locked with his, and she stared for so long he didn’t think she’d answer, but then long lashes swept down, veiling her gaze, and pink tinged her cheeks. “I did.”

That demure admission had him hauling her out of the chair to get his lips on hers. He was already working her dress down to her waist and walking her backward toward the bedroom when she flattened her hands on his chest and said, “Wait.”

“We’ve been over this.” He kept moving until he had her backed up against the bed. Another small push and she landed on the mattress with a bounce. “I’m not here to wait.”