Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 117201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
And it involved her somehow, that much was obvious.
I don’t want you here. Go.
His words from the hospital came back to her, stiffening her spine.
Bolstering her resolve.
“Is anyone else game for the excursion?” Carlos asked with a wily expression.
Sig shook his head at Chloe. “Please, Chlo. You’ll give me a heart attack.”
The harpist shrugged. “Mojitos it is.”
“Two participants so far, then. Fantastic,” Carlos said, clapping his hands together and focusing on Burgess and Tallulah. “You will meet your guide here tomorrow morning at six a.m. sharp.”
“Great,” Tallulah said, smile tight.
“Great,” Burgess echoed, picking up his suitcase and backing away, keeping her in his sights until he’d turned the corner onto the walkway leading to his room, apparently.
“What just happened?” Tallulah asked, still staring dazedly at the spot where he disappeared, excitement warring with foreboding in her belly.
“I think it’s pretty clear,” Chloe answered.
“Is it?”
“Yup. It appears that Sir Savage is ready for a fight.” Sig ushered Chloe back into line, a smile dancing around the edges of his mouth. “And at the risk of stating the obvious, fighting is sort of what he does best, so . . .”
“Uh-oh, roomie,” Chloe whispered. “You might need more than one revenge dress.”
Tallulah swallowed hard. If Burgess had decided to come to Costa Rica and show her they weren’t so different after all, and he planned to prove that by thrill seeking alongside of her . . . she feared there might not be enough revenge dresses in the world.
Or worse still, that each and every one of them could end up on his floor.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Burgess strode along the stone walkway leading to the patio where the welcome dinner was being held, his heart still located in his fucking mouth since his encounter with Tallulah at hotel reception. Encounter? Yeah. More like an ambush.
He was not off to a good start.
Some vine-like greenery blocked his view of the lit-up outdoor space ahead and he smacked it out of his way, berating himself once again for being too impulsive. He’d meticulously written and planned a speech declaring his love, bullet pointing the reasons he could not live without her. He’d intended to deliver it the first time he saw Tallulah again, but as soon as he laid eyes on her, the words he’d practiced in rehab, in the shower and on the plane became nothing but scratches of noise, utterly and completely unworthy of her.
Mother of God, he’d actually let the most beautiful woman alive walk out of his life.
She’d gotten even prettier, too, started doing something different with her eye makeup. She’d bought a new pair of sandals he’d never seen before. A mere six weeks and he’d missed a whole host of little things he could have noticed as they took place, instead of after the fact. How did he screw up so badly? And then double down this afternoon by challenging her, instead of kneeling down in front of the girl and asking for mercy?
These had to be adverse effects of anesthesia.
And God, he could use a shot of the stuff in his chest right now, because the whole thing was a throbbing wound that begged to be numbed, just so he could breathe. Focus.
Focus on what he needed to do.
Apologize. Prove to Tallulah he could be the right man to love her.
Maybe even prove it to himself in the process.
Get her back.
Love her until his heart gave its final beat.
Burgess slowed to a stop on the path when the party materialized in front of him. Approximately three dozen guests mingled beneath a half-moon, sipping champagne from flutes, candles flickering among greenery dotted with white hibiscus. The Beach Boys drifted softly in the humid night air . . . and all he could see was Tallulah.
In a pink dress.
Not just any pink, though. It was hot pink—and he only knew the exact name of the color from back in the day when Lissa used to play with Barbies. There was nothing plastic about Tallulah, though. Jesus, he’d never seen anyone look softer or more natural, her hair left loose and kind of curly due to the tropical air. Her dress was like a swift knee to the balls. Looking at her actually, physically hurt. Like a son of a bitch.
And the message was clear as crystal. Look at what you’re missing.
Despite the misery it would cost Burgess to get closer, he couldn’t help gravitating toward the party, the need to be near her fiercer than ever. But hell if keeping his jaw off the floor didn’t grow impossible. Goddamn. Her ass and thighs in that tight hot-pink dress were going to be listed as the cause of death at his autopsy. Dew glistened on her skin from the humidity. Her lips were painted to match her outfit. And men were noticing. Golfers.