The Worst Best Man(15)

Brendan spun her around, and the crowd flashed by in colors and scents. He pulled her back, and she laughed.

“So, what’s a pretty American like you doing in a place like this?” he asked, dimpling adorably for her.

Frankie felt… nothing. God. Damn. It. A cute, sexy, funny guy who was built to be on some kind of fundraising calendar holding a puppy was swirling her around a dancefloor, and all she could think about was Aiden’s finger prints on her thigh. That son of bitch was ruining her life.

“I’m babysitting several drunk women so everyone will show up for the wedding tomorrow. How about you, surf here often?”

He grinned, and again she felt less than nothing. Aiden Kilbourn was the fucking devil, and she was going to murder his face.

Brendan launched into an explanation of his travel habits, following the surf and whatnot. She should have been charmed, excited, hell, she should have been wet. She must have had some bad rum or beer or fish. It was the only logical explanation.

“Excuse me, Franchesca.” The hand on her shoulder sent a prairie fire racing through her veins. “Pruitt requires your attention,” Aiden announced a bit too smugly for Frankie’s liking.

Cressida, all five foot eleven of her, was peering over his shoulder. “I will dance with you,” she announced, pulling Brendan into her leanly muscled arms.

“Uhhh,” Brendan looked over his shoulder at Frankie as Cressida dragged him into the night.

“What the hell was that?” Frankie hissed.

Aiden gripped her around the waist. “Exactly what I was wondering. I’m not used to being thrown over, Franchesca.”

“Look, we either had too much to drink, or we’re coming down with food poisoning. Those are the only explanations I can come up with for why—”

He cut her off and pushed her behind a fish stand. She could hear the cooks and servers shouting at each other from the open window above her head. “I thought you said Pru needed me,” she snapped.

He reached out and tucked a wayward curl behind her ear, and there were those fucking pterodactyls. It wasn’t fair.

“Maybe it wasn’t Pru. Maybe it was me.”

“Aiden, this is a terrible idea. And maybe Brendan showing up was the best thing that could have happened. He saved us from making a huge mistake.”

“Don’t fuck him.” He laid down the gauntlet, and despite the lack of pterodactyls where Brendan was concerned, Aiden’s proclamation made the surfer more attractive.

“I fuck who I want, when I want.”

“You want me.”

If Aiden put his hands on her here, there’d be no denying it. She’d be too busy climbing him like a mountain and unzipping his shorts. Distance was her friend. Distance would keep her sane.

She held up her hands. “Let’s not get carried away. We’re here for Pru and Chip and their wedding. That’s it. Not some tropical sexathon.” Though when she put it that way and Aiden was looking at her like she was a popsicle begging to be licked, Frankie had trouble reminding herself why she couldn’t have both.

“Franchesca.” The way he said her name sounded like a threat.

“Aiden,” she shot back.

“Fuck.” He took a step back, rubbing absently at his forehead. “I don’t know why you’re saying no.”

“I’m worth more than a quick bang on the beach. I take sex seriously. I have to like the person I’m fucking.”

There was a tic in his jaw.

“You were seconds away from letting me shove my fingers—”

“Stop!” She cut him off, not mentally prepared to hear what he’d been about to do with those beautiful fingers. “I made a mistake. I got carried away. But I have the right to change my mind at any time whether your dick’s out or not.”

“I would never force you to do anything you didn’t want to do.”

“Damn it, Aiden. Look. Maybe my body wants your body. But if I don’t want the rest of you, then it’s not happening.”

“I don’t do relationships. But what I can offer—”

“Christ, I’m not talking about relationships. I’m talking about liking you as a person.”

“You keep saying you don’t like me, but I think you’re trying to convince yourself.”

“My prerogative. Got it? Bottom line, you’re not getting in my pretty pink thong. I don’t like you enough for that. Now, I need a minute and some air. Do me a favor and check on Pru and the rest of those idiots.”

She turned, ruining her exit by tripping over an empty crate outside the shack’s back door. But she didn’t fall on her face. Picking her way toward the sidewalk, Frankie didn’t relax until she could no longer feel the burning weight of Aiden’s gaze on her.

“What is with that guy?” she muttered under her breath. She didn’t like him, yet she was more than happy to let him meander a trail up her thigh to her happy place. She felt like her blood had turned to electricity, zinging through her veins at impossible speeds. He was cold, judgmental, reserved. Hell, he’d assumed she was a stripper. That alone should banish him from her bed for life.

Frankie picked her way through the crowd on the sidewalk. Cab drivers catcalled fares, and drunken tourists stumbled into ZRs, the island’s minivan transportation. For a buck U.S., you could get pretty much anywhere from Bridgetown to St. Lawrence Gap. A group of local girls dressed to the nines wandered by giggling as a group of boys followed a half step behind.