Island Affair (Keys to Love #1)(16)

Her flight had landed in Key West with Sara waffling between dread and blind hope. Ric’s no-show move had tipped the scales toward dread.

Then Luis arrived on the scene. All white knight–ish. With his monster truck and heart-palpitating hunkiness. And in spite of the charade they were preparing to play, Sara found herself enjoying his company.

Maybe it was the magic of the island air. Maybe it was this generous man who’d agreed to help her, a woman who was a total stranger. Albeit one with a public following many in her line of business worked hard to achieve.

More than likely, it was a combination of both.

Either way, the weight she’d been carrying like extra baggage she couldn’t check on her flight had been chucked aside. Thanks to him.

Squinting at the image on her cell screen, Sara concentrated on snapping a good pic for her followers. She moved the camera around her sandwich, mindful of her subject, noting the details framing her shot in the blurry background. The rough, grainy concrete table edging the opaque butcher paper, a flash of dark brown and green from a baby palm tree, the corner of an orange beach towel tossed haphazardly on the sand.

Click. Adjust the angle. Click. Tap the screen to refocus. Click. Satisfied with the mix of photos, she slid her cell into her purse, swapping it for her notebook and pen.

“How about we stick with the basics. Enough to get us by without tripping ourselves up,” she said, opening the book to the page she’d marked with his name earlier. “Age, birthday, family details. Favorites. Nonnegotiables.”

“Hm, I like that last one.”

“Nonnegotiables are key.” She wiggled her pen at him, emphasizing her point. “Like, scary movies? Hard pass. My stomach in knots, spending most of the time covering my eyes or burying my face in my date’s shoulder because I can’t look. Not my jam. You?”

“I can take or leave ’em. I’m more of a documentary or action flick viewer. Let’s see, my hard pass would be . . .” Luis wiped his mouth with a paper napkin, eyes squinting at something in the distance as he considered his answer. Seconds later, his pensive frown brightened. “Got it! Karaoke. Definitely not for me.”

“No way?!”

“Yes way.”

“Come on, karaoke’s so fun.” Using her pink pen like a pseudo-mic, she pantomimed a singer. “I figured you and I’d be signing up for a duet. Maybe ‘Summer Nights’ from Grease.”

The horrified expression on his rugged face was so meme worthy Sara threw back her head and laughed. Add a WTH? caption and it’d easily go viral.

“Nonnegotiable.” Luis enunciated the word clearly, his hell no tone softened by the laughter tilting his full lips and flashing in his dark eyes. He dipped his head toward their table. “Eat up. We have work to do.”

“Fiiiine.” She scrunched her nose in protest but picked up her sandwich and took a hefty bite. “Mmmmm.”

Her eyelids drifted closed as the mix of spices tempered by Swiss cheese with the added tang of mustard and pickles teased her taste buds. The explosion of flavor had her mouth watering. Swallowing, she opened her eyes to sample more.

Her gaze connected with Luis’s across the table. She froze, spellbound by the intensity tightening his angular features. Sara licked at a trace of mustard on her bottom lip, her pulse blipping when his heated gaze followed the motion.

A different kind of hunger, swift and unexpected, swooped deep at her core. An electric charge sizzled through her, leaving tingles of desire in its churning wake.

Suddenly a bird’s squawk pierced the air. A seagull glided into their cabana to land on the end of their picnic table.

Luis blinked, breaking their silent connection. He shooed the bird away, then gathered his trash into a ball with one fist.

“Worth the wait?” he asked, indicating her sandwich.

Sara nodded, still reeling from the startling awareness arcing between them.

“Uh-huh. It’s, um, delicious.” Clearing her throat, she picked up her drink and worked to get her thoughts back on track. “I can see why Sandy’s made Key West’s Top Five Cuban Mixes list. Definitely a must-try recommendation for my followers.”

“Told you so.”

“Gloating is not nice. Don’t make me break out my chancleta,” she threatened.

His raspy chuckle sent a delicious shiver across her shoulders.

Dangerous.

Thrilling.

Completely inappropriate for the friendly agreement they had made.

“Okay,” she said on a deep, get your head in the game breath. “Time to start Twenty Questions Fake Relationship Edition.”

“Yay!” Luis lifted his fists in triumph, his expression alight with mock excitement. “My favorite game!”

“Wise guy,” she grumbled, fighting her answering smile.

She clicked her pen with her thumb, then tossed the first barrage of questions at him.

Over an hour later, Sara had filled two pages with notes. Luis, having seen the wisdom of her ways, had decided to start his own study guide, so she’d torn a piece of paper from her book and dug out an extra pen from her purse.

In between questions and devising their story of how they’d met, Luis had finished off the last half of her Cuban mix after she cried “full.” Him, volunteering to “take one for the team” to avoid letting good food go to waste. Her, failing to use that opening in their conversation to divulge her personal struggle with an eating disorder.