Page 27 of Fighting Fate
“You’re welcome.” She looked a bit bashful. “I’m pretty sure you’re a much better cook than I am, but I do make a mean breakfast, if I say so myself. Get some eggs in and I’ll do even better next time.”
“There’s going to be a next time?” He moved closer, reaching out to put his hands on her hips.
She stilled, looking up at him. “I… would like there to be a next time. You?”
“Very much so.” He leaned down to place a gentle kiss on her lips, deepening it when her arms snaked up around his neck. “Not ready for this time to be over, to be honest. Do you have to work today?”
“Yes… but it’s still early. I’m not in a shocking rush.” Grinning, she pulled him down for another kiss, trying to tilt her hips up against his, but she was too short to get any sort of good contact.
Adam lifted her easily to the counter, stepping in between her spread knees. Now they were in contact, through only thin layers of clothing since he wore only running shorts and she was wearing one of his T-shirts with, he discovered, nothing at all underneath. The T-shirt was like a dress on her, falling to mid-thigh, and he really should have noticed just how damn sexy she looked in it before, he thought as his questing fingers pushed it up and off over her head, but he’d been too distracted by the smell of the cooking bacon. Which probably said terrible things about him as a human being, that food could take precedence even temporarily over a woman as gorgeous as Rosie.
At least she didn’t seem to mind that he hadn’t noticed her sexy dishevelment immediately. She’d probably appreciated the opportunity to eat her own breakfast without being pounced on, actually. And now she was reaching to the end of the counter, to the purse she’d left there last night, scrabbling in it and pulling out a small box of condoms with a triumphant grin.
Which meant he didn’t need to carry her off to the bedroom to ravish her again, which was good, because he could barely think of anything beyond how utterly gorgeous she was, stark naked on his kitchen counter with the early morning sun slanting through the window behind her playing over her soft curves.
He spared only a moment to think a mental apology and a silent promise to disinfect the counter later to the house’s owner before reaching for Rosie.
***
Rosie was five minutes into her walk back to the resort when she admitted to herself that she should have got over her embarrassment and accepted Adam’s offer of a lift. Indeed, he’d tried to insist, but she found herself suddenly unable to look him in the eye, getting a bit sniffy and telling him he needed to go take a shower. He got a slightly stricken look on his face, sniffed at his own armpit, and headed for the bathroom hastily, calling over his shoulder;
“I really will give you a lift back, Rosie - just give me a few minutes!”
Instead of waiting, she got dressed, scribbled a quick Sorry, have to get to work note on a sticky note from a pad in her purse, and left it in the middle of the bed, the bright pink unmissable on the muted grey sheets.
Now she was trudging along the track, mentally cursing her own stupid stubbornness. It was going to take at least twenty minutes to walk back, her shoes were already killing her, and it was ridiculously hot already. She didn’t even have a hat or sunscreen on, which meant she was going to arrive back turning an unattractive shade of pink, too.
“Idiot,” she muttered to herself. “Stupid, stubborn idiot.”
The electric golf carts made almost no sound, so she jumped when one suddenly hummed up beside her.
This is going to be embarrassing. SHe didn’t want to look Adam in the eye after running out on him.
“Walk of shame, hon?” a cheerful voice said, and Rosie started, her head snapping around.
“Nessa!” She almost gasped with relief to see her bartender friend.
“Need a ride?”
“Oh God, yes please!”
Nessa looked fresh and pretty in a white cotton sundress, her long black hair in its dozens of tiny braids almost down to her waist. She put the golf cart back into gear as soon as Rosie was seated, humming on down the track towards the resort.
“Why are you up and about so early?” Rosie asked. Nessa lived with her fiancé, the resort’s billionaire owner Jace Hunter, at his private villa. Although she didn’t need to work, she enjoyed still doing a few shifts a week at the poolside bar at the main resort, usually in the afternoons.
“Supply run,” Nessa said cheerfully. “We’re just about out of milk, and Jace is a bit of an arsehole until he’s had his third cappucino of the morning.”
Rosie laughed, relaxing back into the seat.
“So, is it a walk of shame?” Nessa pressed gently. “Gotta say that looks like a last-night kind of dress…”
“Ugh.” Rosie covered her face with her hands. “I feel skanky,” she muttered into them. “Even though it was a really good night and he’s a really nice guy. Morning afters are just so awkward.”
“Always,” Nessa commiserated. “Uh. Not to be nosy, except I’m totally being nosy, but who…? I’m wracking my brain trying to think of who’s resident in any of those villas who might be remotely your type.”
Obviously she hadn’t met Adam yet, because he was every red-blooded woman’s type, at least to Rosie’s way of thinking.
“Adam Gillespie,” she said. “He’s staying at Tad O’Dell’s villa.”