CHAPTER TWELVE
“Duke,” she hissed.
The name burned her tongue. She narrowed her eyes as she hunched away from the table. “Are you a friend of Duke’s?”
It was all she could imagine. That this was a sick new wrinkle in his smear campaign. That somehow he’d sent a friend to seduce her in some cruel fresh twist, then claim in a spate of horrid reviews that Ariel’s Island Eco-Adventure Tours was run by no Disney princess, but by some kind of slut.
OK, fine. Maybe that was a stretch. But why on earth would Jake, the man she met less than twenty-four hours ago, have a photo of her face on his phone? He hadn’t snapped any shots of her that she was aware of.
“Duke?” he asked as the waitress appeared.
“Sandy said dessert’s on her if you want it,” the waitress said, clasping her hands together as if this was the best news ever.
Normally, free dessert was damn good news.
But she was thrown, tossed in uncertain waters, and she couldn’t read the man across from her to figure out if she should stay or go. Jake’s expression was stony. He hardly seemed rattled, while Steph was nearly shaking. They were surrounded by handfuls of other diners, nibbling on fish tacos, drinking tropical drinks, passing the warm afternoon hours on the deck of a bar and grill. She wished she could be as laid-back as everyone else.
Including her date.
“How about a slice of mango cake with the scoop of coconut ice cream?” Jake said to the waitress, gesturing to the chalkboard menu hanging by the bar advertising today’s specials. “I can’t resist ice cream.”
“Yes, we’ll share it,” Steph added, determined now not to let him be the only cool, collected one. If he could play at mango cake détente, so could she.
“One mango cake coming right up,” the waitress said with a chipper tone and a happy swing of her elbow. She swiveled around and weaved through the tables on her way to the kitchen.
“Seriously. Who are you?” Steph said as she crossed her arms. “And why did someone send you a picture of me?”
“Who is Duke?” he countered.
She was undeterred. If Jake had anything whatsoever to do with the asshole who tried to take down her business, she needed to know now. “I bet he sent you that shot of me,” she said, then reached out her hand, as if she could somehow grab his phone, even though he’d slid it inside his pocket.
Jake laughed and shook his head. “One, I don’t know who Duke is. Two, whoever he is, he didn’t send me your picture. Three, I have it, as I was saying before, because you’re hot.”
She furrowed her brow. “What? How does that compute?”
“Simply. Quite simply,” he said, reaching for his glass of water and taking a gulp.
She waited expectantly for an answer, even as worry thrummed through her. “How so?”
“Do you have a little sister?”
“No,” she answered quickly, wondering where this line of questioning was going.
“Well, I do, as you know. And she happens to be one of those wonderfully persistent sisters who wanted to know what I was doing last night, and I mentioned I had met a woman.”
She arched her eyebrow. “And she sent you a photo of me?”
He nodded. “She did. She’s like that. She also sent me an emoticon of lips smooching.”
Despite her simmering annoyance, her lips quirked up. Because that was kind of cute. “She did?”
He shrugged casually. “Like I said, she likes to razz me. But I don’t mind.”
“Fine. But why would she send you a picture of me?”
“She broke me down. That’s her special skill. She weaseled your name out of me when you were in the ladies’ room a little while ago. I was texting her, and she just sent me back the photo she found of you online.”
Hmmm.
His story added up. Mostly. Still, caution reigned, but she figured the fastest way to the truth was to lay her cards on the table.
“Scout’s honor? Because I’ve been burned, Jake. You seem like a good guy, and I like spending time with you so far. I just want to know for certain that Duke has nothing to do with this,” she said, gesturing from him to her, and the awareness that he was the first guy she’d had a date with since Duke made her throat hitch. “Promise?” she asked, her tone pleading, her voice threatening to break.
Maybe it was that quiver in her voice. Perhaps it was the way her eyes looked wet, like she was about to cry. It might even have been how scared she sounded. Whatever it was, he felt like shit now, especially given how he’d stretched the Kylie text into a big, fat white lie. He wished he didn’t have to fib so blatantly, but how was he to trust her? But he hated, absolutely hated, seeing a woman in this state.
“Duke isn’t involved. I swear. I don’t even know who he is. Who is this guy?” he asked, trying to be as gentle as he could. Then he stiffened as the possibility smashed into him. “Is he your boyfriend?” he asked, bracing himself.
She scoffed. “No—God, no. He’s an ex, though, and he tried to ruin my business. He enlisted a bunch of his friends to help him, too. That’s why the picture made me worry that you were connected with him, or who knows what,” she said, her voice still tough as she talked about the ex. But then it softened momentarily, and she whispered, “But I’m glad the picture just came from your sister. I think that’s sweet.”
Oh fuck.
His heart lurched toward her.