Chapter 2

2

OLIVIA

A greeing to give him a tour was a bad idea. No, if there was an Olympic for bad ideas, this would take home the gold.

Oliver Abbot is my personal nightmare. Not because he's part owner of the company that's been trying to take our land, but because he's so far from the stoic, calculating man some of my neighbors claim he is. That's what they read on the internet, so hey, it must be a universal truth.

When I accidentally threw my panties at him yesterday, my initial fear was he'd sue me for assault. Then, he treated me like I wasn't dirt under his shoe or acted like he was wasting his time with a nobody like me and I should be thankful he was talking to me.

He wasn't like the others.

No, this Oliver is … polite, and he looks at me in a way that has butterflies fluttering in my belly and warmth spreading to every part of my body.

But I have to remember who he is and why he's here. We're not friends, and we both come from different worlds. There's no way this physical attraction is two-way.

With my face only a few inches from his, though, all logical thoughts fly out the window, and I'm three seconds away from abandoning all pretense of anger and begging him to kiss me.

It's so pathetic that I can't help but hate myself. The worst thing is, I don't have it in me to stand and put a distance between us either.

Where the hell is the strong-headed girl my dad raised? Because Oliver is a walking daydream, I'm reduced to nothing more than a girl with needs.

What makes it doubly hard is how freaking hot Oliver is. He's tall and broad, and I still remember how wide his shoulders looked when he was in his three-piece suit. His dark brown hair is tapered on the sides, but he sports a boxed beard that unfairly suits him.

His eyes remind me of the sky on a warm, sunny day. I wonder if they change color depending on his mood.

Oh God.

It's too late to pretend I'm not checking him out, so I tentatively reach for the small scar above his lips. "What happened to that?"

He sucks in a sharp breath when my finger brushes his skin, so I jerk my arm back. I'm way out of line. "A fight back in college."

"Hmm. I didn't know rich kids get scars." I spot another on his brow. "Oh, there's another one here" —my finger traces another along his jaw— "and here. That's a lot of scars, Mr. Abbot."

"I know. I was a handful when I was younger."

It's just then that I notice a bump on his nose, too. "Damn. Did they hurt you?"

Oliver chuckles, and it's a sound I can get used to, a sound that makes my core clench. "You should have seen the other guys."

How did I not notice his deep voice? How it caresses my skin? How it makes me feel things I shouldn't feel for someone with ulterior motives? Not even ulterior because I know what he wants.

Despite all that, my body has other ideas. Before my brain registers what's happening, my finger runs across his eyebrow, feeling the scar tissue in the middle of the arch. When I'm close enough to feel his breath on my face, my own breathing hitches.

We're both almost panting, and when my hand slides down his hard, broad chest, his heart slams against my palm.

The need for him is almost painful and unbearable.

"Olivia…" he growls.

I swallow hard. "Oli."

"Hmm?"

"My friends call me Oli."

"Are we friends now?"

"Depends."

"On what?" He lowers his mouth until his lips ghost over mine.

"On whether you're about to kiss me or not."

"Oli…" The instant my name leaves his lips, he pulls me to him and kisses me with an urgency, intensity, and ferocity that takes my breath away. It's a kiss I will remember for the rest of my life. A kiss that empties my mind, makes my limbs tingle with excitement and causes my heart to do somersaults.

Maybe another woman has possessed me because I don't just kiss him back, I clutch his face and plunge my tongue into his mouth until our tongues tangle. I suck his tongue, he sucks mine, and by the time we pull apart, we're both trying to catch our breaths.

Oh my God.

I didn't just do that. I didn't just give in after a day of knowing this guy. Not just any guy either.

Except…

Given a chance to go back five minutes ago, I'd still do it. Over and over and over again.

"You know, Oli, I know what you're trying to do."

My brain has turned to sludge or the kiss has fried all the important bits because I stare at him like an idiot. "What do you mean?"

Oliver chuckles again before he sucks my bottom lip between his teeth, making me automatically rub my thighs together. "When I asked you for a tour, I didn't mean to bring me to the island's best spots. I prefer you to take me to your favorite ones."

I can never keep secrets from my mom. She is my best friend, so telling her what happened earlier is at the tip of my tongue. It has been since I came home an hour ago.

The scent of garlic and onion wafts through the air as I let them sizzle on the pan before I lower the heat. Glancing over at Mom, who's seated near the window with her easel in front of her, I try to think of different ways to break the ‘news' to her. Okay, that's a bit dramatic, but she deserves to know. I went with Oliver intending to convince him to leave us alone, and I ended up on his lap and kissing him like my life depended on it.

Ugh. Remembering that kiss has my body going haywire again and warmth spreading to my cheeks. Everything's happening too fast.

Mom's partly gray hair is tied in a loose bun, and she hovers the paintbrush on the canvas before she begins brushing with practiced ease.

"We kissed," I blurt out and wince, fully prepared for an hour-long lecture.

Mom doesn't even look my way. "Hmm?"

"Oliver Abbot. We kissed."

Again, she doesn't stop painting. "Oh, yeah? He seems nice."

I round the small kitchen counter and stand beside her, propping my hands on my hips. "Mom, he's trying to kick us off our own property so they can build resorts we can't even afford. I'm supposed to show him why we can't have an overflowing number of tourists all year long because they might destroy the island." With a sigh, I scrub my hands across my face. "And the next thing I know, I'm shoving my tongue down his throat."

Mom puts the brush down and wipes her hands on her apron. She finally looks at me and shakes her head. "Oli, that wasn't an invitation for details. Jesus."

"Okay, sorry, but you know what I mean. I'm so disappointed in myself."

"Why?"

"I just told you."

Mom gets up and stretches her back. "First of all, he's here to negotiate, so that's what we're going to do. We will negotiate. Second, I didn't miss the way he was looking at you. And the way he kept your underwear." She raises one delicate brow. "Was there some kind of potion in your panties that he sniffed?"

My mouth hangs open. "Mom!"

Mom bursts out laughing. "But seriously. I heard his brother is the evil one, so I guess let's consider ourselves lucky Oliver is the one who's here right now."

"It's too early to tell. He's only been here for two days."

"And yet, you already shoved your tongue down his throat."

"Jesus Christ, Mom."

"Those were your exact words, Oli. Not mine."

She takes off her apron and walks toward the dining table but stops halfway to cast me a questioning glance over her shoulder. "You know, I find it interesting that you've never shown any interest in other men like this."

"I've had a couple of boyfriends."

"Yet that one boy had to wait for two years before you said yes to a coffee date." Mom turns around, a smile playing on her lips. "Admit it, Oli. This one's different. Oliver is different. His vibe and the energy around him tell me so."

I roll my eyes so hard I can almost see my brain. "He could be a serial killer for all we know. I don't even know his middle name or favorite color."

"You have seven days to get to know each other, more if he decides to stay longer."

The reminder that he can leave anytime makes something heavy settle in my stomach. "What if he's just using me to get what he wants?"

"Did he make the first move?"

I press my palms to my cheeks and make a face. "I did. I fell on his lap, didn't move, and kissed him first." The ground can swallow me whole.

Mom walks back to me and presses her lips on my temple. "You've always been a great judge of character, Oli. You'll know when he's using you or he feels the same way you do."

I pace our small kitchen, grabbing my hair in clumps. Frustration eats at me. "How can I be attracted to him since the first time I saw him? It doesn't make sense, and I always thought I wasn't the type to swoon over hot guys."

She pours the can of tomato sauce on the pan and smiles softly at me. "The heart wants what it wants, Ol. I mean, I knew I was going to marry your dad when I saw him at the club."

"You hated him on sight."

Mom lifts one shoulder. "Same difference." She points the wooden spoon at me. "Invite Oliver for dinner tomorrow. I want to take a closer look at this man who's about to turn your world upside down."