Author: Roni Loren

She leaned into him. “I probably should be nervous, but I feel like I’ve had a couple of shots of tequila.”

He chuckled. “You had a couple of shots of something.”

She poked his ribs, but then turned into him, pushing up on her toes and kissing him like they’d been lovers forever. Her blue eyes were soft when she pulled away. “Thank you for that.”

“For what, love?” he asked, sensing she wasn’t simply thanking him for the sex.

She moved her hair all to one side, gathering it over her shoulder. “For not treating me with kid gloves after everything we talked about. For pushing me anyhow.”

He touched her jaw. “I can’t seem to help myself with you. You break down my good sense.”

She smirked and grabbed his hand to tug him toward shore. “Good. I like when you lose a little bit of your polish.”

He laughed. “I’m not all that shiny, love.”

“Well, time to put your armor back on then because we have some client fishing to do.”

* * *

Kelsey adjusted the neckline of her strapless maxi dress, trying to make sure she was still in the classic sexy zone and not the trashy hooker one. The line was kind of blurred in her mind these days. “You sure this looks appropriate? There’s not much else I can do with the girls to hide them.”

Wyatt’s attention slid over to her as they made their way along the sandy path that led down to the beach, his gaze tracing along her throat and cleavage. “First of all, hiding them would be a crime against mankind, so I’m against anything that would do so. And second, you look beautiful. You have a glow to your skin like you’ve been lying in the sun. Or have recently had a screaming orgasm in the middle of the Caribbean.”

“That is good for a girl’s coloring,” she mused, squeezing his hand.

He dipped his head next to her ear as they approached the decked-out beach party. “Here we go. Lights. Camera. Ass-kissing.”

Kelsey pasted on a smile, but her stomach felt like marbles were rolling around inside her and knocking together. The party had commandeered a big portion of the beach, more than necessary based on the number of partygoers. Though Kelsey guessed if you owned the whole island, you could have as much space as you wanted. People were spread out in small groupings, the flames of tiki torches swaying and dancing around them in the salty breeze, mixing with the smells of roasted meat. Off to the far side there seemed to be a makeshift dance floor on a spot where the sand was harder packed. A three-man steel drum band was playing a beat that mixed in with the crashing of the waves.

The whole setting was idyllic. Built for the carefree. Too bad she was about as far from carefree as she could be at the moment. And her date didn’t seem much better. The set of his jaw looked like he was preparing to go into a battle with no weapons.

“Where’s the keg?” Kelsey whispered as they slipped off their sandals and stepped into the silky sand, hoping humor would take the bite out of her nerves.

Wyatt hip checked her lightly, a playful tease, but his face remained stoic and smooth as a waiter approached with a tray. “Miss, can I offer you a refreshment? Champagne? Rum punch?”

She eyed the bubbly and fruity-looking drinks, the ghost of her old self automatically calculating how many of those it would take to get a buzz. She pushed back the thought, disgusted her mind still went there. “Do you have anything non-alcoholic?”

“We have fresh-pressed mango-pineapple juice at the bar. Would you care for that?”

“We’ll take two of those,” Wyatt said evenly.

“Right away, sir.” The waiter gave a little nod and strode off to get them their special order.

“You don’t have to abstain on my behalf. I’m used to being around alcohol,” Kelsey said, absently adjusting her top again. Apparently that was going to be her nervous tic tonight. “It doesn’t bother me if others drink.”

He stared out across the crowd as if scanning for the best point of attack. “I didn’t do it for that reason. I’m not a big drinker to begin with, but I like to stay sharp at something like this. Let other people get tipsy around me and start spilling their personal business, and I’ll be sober enough to remember it.”

She shook her head, smirking. “So you can use it against them?”

He looked down at her, that blue gaze a bit wounded. “So I can use it for them, love. I want to make them money, not swindle them.”

The waiter returned with their drinks, and both she and Wyatt ventured farther into the mix of people. Her heartbeat picked up speed as she took in the other guests and the snippets of conversation. If wealth had a sound it was this—lofty laughter, clinking glasses, claps on the back. She took a long sip of her drink, trying to still her shaking hands. She reminded herself that these were just people like the ones she chatted with every morning at the diner. And it wasn’t like she wasn’t around the filthy rich at The Ranch. But in that environment different rules applied. It didn’t matter who had the biggest bank account or fanciest pedigree—her domme status granted her instant respect.

Wyatt put a hand on the small of her back. “Let’s head closer to the water. I think I see an acquaint—”

“Wyatt Austin?” A very shrill, very southern voice came from their left, cutting off Wyatt. “As I live and breathe, is that you?”

Both Kelsey and Wyatt turned to find the owner of the outburst coming toward them with a halo of teased red hair. Her smile was so wide and her approach so urgent that Kelsey feared for a moment that the older woman was going to tackle Wyatt like a linebacker.

“Brace yourself,” Wyatt said under his breath, but he wore an amused smile as the hurricane of a woman got near. A younger ginger-headed guy hurried after her like an owner who’d realized his puppy had broken off the leash. “Hello, Mrs. Pritchard.”

The lady pulled up short in front of them, hands on her hips, her shrewd brown eyes taking in Wyatt from head to foot. “Well, my word. It is you. And look how good looking you turned out.” She turned and smacked the arm of the younger guy who’d followed her over. “See, son, I told you that was him.”

The guy, who looked to be in his thirties, gave her a bemused smile. “I know, I should never doubt you, Mother.” He stepped forward and shook Wyatt’s hand. “Good to see you, man.”

“Same here, Ferris. It’s been years.” Wyatt released the handshake and slipped a palm onto Kelsey’s back. “This is my girlfriend, Kelsey. Kelsey, this is Mrs. Regina Pritchard, a former neighbor of mine. And her son, Ferris. He was a few years behind me in school. I used to tutor him in math.”

Mrs. Pritchard gave her an enthusiastic hand squeeze and a beaming smile. “So nice to meet you, Kelsey. And what a pretty dress. I love that print.”

The tension in Kelsey eased as she returned the woman’s greeting. Mrs. Pritchard reminded her of a home ec teacher she’d had in middle school—a force of nature but a benign one. “Thank you.”

Mrs. Pritchard swept a hand, indicating her own bright purple dress and generous curves, then lowered her voice. “I had to give up the prints a long time ago. Ferris told me there really can be too much of a good thing. And I’m not going to go against the opinion of a gay fashion designer.”

Kelsey pressed her lips together, not sure how to react to that.

But Ferris didn’t miss a beat. He shook Kelsey’s hand. “And I’m the gay fashion designer. Nice to meet you.”

She laughed. “I’m the straight baker.”

And that felt good to say. Even though it was a vast expansion on the truth. This is what it would feel like to be proud of a job.

“Excellent,” he said, his warmth as genuine as his mother’s.

Wyatt cleared his throat, clearly searching for small talk, and eventually landed on what was comfortable for him—facts. “Mrs. Pritchard owns the Belle Bridal Boutique chain and the Belle of the Ball wedding planning service. She handles a lot of celebrity weddings.”

“Oh, wow,” Kelsey said, genuinely impressed. Even she knew those wedding boutiques were the best of best. And she could definitely picture the boisterous Mrs. Pritchard directing an army to put together an event. “What an exciting job that must be.”

She patted Kelsey’s arm and leaned forward as if telling her a secret. “To tell the truth, the celebrity ones exhaust me. Nothing like having paparazzi trampling all over the place like raccoons digging through the trash. I much prefer the more private affairs or smaller destination weddings.” She sent Wyatt a pointed look. “So when this one pops the question on you, you give me a call, sweetie, and I’ll give you a fairy tale.”

Kelsey nearly choked at the preposterous thought, though it didn’t stop the little girl thrill of thinking about a fairy-tale wedding from zipping through her. God, where had that come from? “Oh, we’re just dating, ma’am.”

Mrs. Pritchard looked between the two of them, her bright pink lips curling into a conspiratorial smile. “I’ve been doing this for a few decades. I can recognize the lasting couples from the temporary ones.”

Kelsey glanced at Wyatt, expecting to find that panicked look men get when anyone mentions marriage, but he looked more thoughtful than anything. Kelsey needed to think quick. She remembered Mrs. Pritchard being on the index cards. Surely a woman in charge of such a wedding empire could be a great potential client, especially when she seemed to have genuine warmth toward Wyatt. This was her chance to take some action and help.

She reached out a hand to Ferris. “Would you care to dance? I’d love to hear about your designs.”

“Sure.”

Wyatt did send her a panicked expression now, and she slid her gaze toward Mrs. Pritchard, hoping he got the message. He did. They had a brief, silent argument. She won. His polite smile reappeared. “Mrs. Pritchard, would you do me the same honor?”

The older woman pressed a hand to her chest like she was having a slight palpitation. “Of course. Who am I to turn down an offer from such a handsome gentleman? Though, Ferris may be jealous.” She leaned closer to Wyatt, but didn’t lower her voice. “He had such a schoolboy crush on you back then. I’ve never seen him study so hard.”

Ferris tilted his face toward the stars as if praying for patience. “I think my next design needs to be a customized muzzle.”

Kelsey bit her lip to hide her smile and Wyatt chuckled, unfazed by the revelation. “Hopefully, your taste has improved since then.”

Ferris gave Wyatt a good-natured smile. “I do try to avoid going after the straight guys these days. But hey, at least now I’m good at math.”

Mrs. Pritchard winked at her son, her pride and affection toward him obvious. “So, Wyatt, are you going to dance with a broad or what?”

“I’m all yours, ma’am.” Wyatt offered her his arm, the set of his shoulders softer than a few moments before. This woman was impossible to remain uptight around. “Maybe you can teach me a few moves.”

Kelsey watched them walk toward the dance area as she and Ferris trailed behind, and she barely resisted the urge to spin around in a victory dance. She didn’t know if Wyatt could keep up with Mrs. Pritchard on the dance floor, but she knew one thing for sure—she’d just helped him go the extra step to get a potential new client. Maybe she really could be useful for him here.

Kelsey danced with Ferris, who was just as charming as his mother, then circulated the party with Wyatt for another half hour. Wyatt hadn’t been kidding about his hatred for small talk, but she’d let him play the strong and silent type while she filled in the gaps. Luckily, when Wyatt did have something to say, people seemed to want to listen. He already had two meetings set up for when they got back to Texas. And that fact seemed to lift his mood considerably as the night pressed on.