“Can’t blame him for wanting you all to himself.” He gave me a kiss on the cheek and chuckled when Sinclair took him by the shoulder to pull him firmly away.
“I liked him,” I protested mildly as Sinclair settled in beside me.
“You’ll like me more.” His hand landed heavy and hot on my bare knee, branding me. “Now are you done trying to distract me? I really do have business to discuss and I want you to think, long and hard, about my proposal. Can you do that for me?”
His voice was so seductive. No one else I knew had such a powerfully sexy speech. It may have been the undercurrent of French in his pronunciation or the depth of his baritone, the fact that he never spoke loudly and yet every word vibrated throughout my body. Whatever it was, I was almost certain I would do anything that voice commanded.
So, I nodded mutely and watched a slow, slight smile tip his firm lips.
“Good,” he said and turned immediately to Richard Denman.
The sluggish ocean breeze carried his leather and smoke scent to my nose and I sucked a lungful deep into my lungs. His hand on my bare thigh seemed to throb against my overheated skin and when I squirmed slightly, he squeezed me into stillness.
“What brings you to Mexico, Elle?” The woman beside Sinclair leaned forward and smiled at me with closed lips. I wondered if she was self-conscious of her buckteeth.
“My best friend booked the room but was unable to make it.” Brenna would have loved the luxurious resort and I worried that she was working too hard under the direction of her new manager.
“Lucky girl.?
? She extended her hand. “Candy Kay.”
My eyebrows rose by their own volition but she was kind enough to laugh at my rudeness. “I know. It’s misleading. I gave up introducing myself as Candace years ago, people refuse to call me anything but Candy.”
“It’s a lovely name,” I offered politely, trying to recover from my earlier faux pas.
She laughed loudly, her teeth flashing in the candlelight. I found her rather beautiful actually, when her features relaxed with good humor and she forgot to pull her lips closed.
Her insecurities reminded me all too vividly of my own as I grew up. It was only recently that I had come to terms with myself, with the red hair and olive skin, the freckles and the lack of Italian spicing my speech. I was the only one in our family without a discernable accent and though Elena shared my red hair, it was dark, almost black, and she had the long, lithe body of the twins while I remained stunted, shorter and too curved. For years, I had hid behind baggy clothes and died my hair an unnatural black. I fingered a waving lock of auburn hair nervously.
“Did I hear you say that you are an artist?” she asked. “I’m hopeless with any form of creativity but I so admire artists. You must have an awfully romantic life.”
I laughed as I pictured the cramped apartment in old servants quarters that I had lived in the past five years. “Not exactly. But I do love what I do. I’m lucky to have had the opportunity to pursue it.”
“I think it’s wonderful when people follow their passions,” Candy spoke in a low mumble, the better to hide her teeth, I thought, but Sinclair looked over abruptly as if she had yelled.
“Not everyone is so lucky,” I agreed, thinking of my siblings toiling away in New York City for years, two young people alone in a foreign country trying to scrounge together enough money to support a family of five.
“That’s why I respect Sinclair so much, of course,” she said. “His passion is boundless.”
He chose that moment to look over at me as Duncan Wright spoke animatedly to him about stock options. His eyes were dark and the shadows cast his features in stark relief. The sharp jut of the bones in his face was almost cruel and the intensity of his expression was near to savage with desire. A shiver trembled across my shoulders. Boundless passion. The look he gave me promised just that.
“I haven’t known him for very long,” I exaggerated smoothly; prying my eyes from his in order to smile at Candy. “Tell me about the work you do with him.”
I watched her come alive, her lips pulled over her teeth, his eyes sparkling and I knew she too shared passion for her work. “I’m the vice-president of the company and while I love the thrill of closing a land deal, I won’t lie to you, my favorite part is working with Romani International, Sinclair’s charity. That’s one of the reasons we are here.”
“Oh?” I scoured my mind for any information on the Romani people but found myself sorely lacking in knowledge. I knew it was the politically correct term for gypsies, and that they were nomadic peoples with somewhat vagabond lifestyles.
“He doesn’t like to talk about it much.” She cast a quick glance at the man between us, but Sinclair was busy debating something animatedly with the other men. “But every year he rewards his closest colleagues with a week of all-inclusive vacation. Of course, it’s not really a vacation. We are here to close a deal on a resort while simultaneously milking our fellow travelers for donations to the Romani Foundation. Business never sleeps, even when Cage crashes the party,” she said with a sigh and a quick glance at Cage, who was leaning across the table shouting at an unfazed Sinclair.
So, Sinclair was in real estate? I was quiet as the food arrived and a beautifully presented glass of fresh shrimp ceviche was placed before me. I looked over at Sinclair as I raised a spoonful to my mouth and hummed in delight as I took the first delicious bite.
His hand tightened around my thigh and his lips parted on a small gasp at my expression. I was dazzled by his desire and emboldened by it, I deliberately swept my tongue across my bottom lip.
His blue eyes flashed. “I need you to say yes, Elle.”
His smoky voice made me dizzy but I shook my head slightly to clear it and smiled demurely at him as if I was used to this degree of male attention. “I’m still thinking.”
“Well stop talking and eat up then, I’m an impatient man.”