Unedited Excerpt from Last Resort, by Rebecca L. Boschee

Lila pulled her hand back with uncommon speed. She tucked it safely under her arm and clamped down, trying to steady her breathing. She hadn’t expected anyone to be waiting for her. Why hadn’t he gone off with the Italian girl?

She reluctantly raised her eyes to meet the man who’d just sent what felt like a few hundred kilowatts of electricity pulsing through her body. Even though Lila herself stood five-foot nine, she had to look up to see into his face. What she saw was riveting. The line of his jaw and angles of his face appeared more rugged and handsome than she’d thought from a distance, as if he spent a great deal of time outdoors. Still, something in his expression impressed her as being almost soft.

She wondered why he wasn’t dressed in a turquoise Polo shirt like the others. In fact, he looked completely out of uniform in flip‒flops, tan cargo shorts and a faded tee‒shirt advertising some island crab‒shack. She peeked at his fingers, still curled around the handle of her bag. His hands, strong and tanned, were clearly accustomed to hard work. Her mind flitted to an image of what those fingers might feel like caressing her skin. She winced, annoyed. It’d clearly been too long a day. She shouldn’t even be thinking about this man’s physical appearance, let alone the ridiculous rush she’d imagined when they’d touched. Hadn’t she promised herself she was done with dangerously good looking men forever? She eyed the man with stubborn determination.

Openly assessing, green eyes returned the gaze. Lila felt her heart stammer and had to breathe through her nose to control it. A heady whiff of something sweet drifted in on the night air, gardenias maybe.

“Really, you don’t have to…“ Lila started to protest.

Before her eyes, the man melted from stiff curiosity to the picture of relaxation. The effect was like watching a wave wash over a sand castle and soften all the packed edges.

“You think you can haul both these bags across two acres and up three flights of stairs in the dark?“ he asked, his voice simultaneously playful and challenging.

Lila willed herself not to notice the charming southern lilt accenting his words. She tried to focus on his obvious flaws, like…well…he did seem pretty cocky. “What, you don’t have elevators?“ she asked, allowing the stress from the long travel day to taint her voice.

The edge of the man’s lip curled slowly upward and a teasing glint darted into his eyes. Lila’s stomach flipped over. She gritted her teeth in protest.

“They’re for guests only,“ he said.

“Oh.“ Lila felt her face fall as she contemplated the enormity of the two bags into which she’d packed practically every outfit and pair of shoes she owned.

She made it a point to avoid the man’s eyes. She couldn’t afford to let her defenses down, especially not in this place, not with this guy. This guy definitely fell into the category of too‒good‒looking‒for‒his‒own‒good. She had realized she would have to be on guard the moment she stepped out of the cab and caught a glimpse of this man and the lithe Italian goddess. Her instincts told her almost everyone at the resort was going to be exceedingly beautiful; Tour Paradise didn’t need to use models in their catalogs. Even the petty girl working reception could be drop‒dead gorgeous if she’d learn to smile and have those ferocious fangs filed down.

The gorgeous man watched as she felt a portion of her internal battle play across her face.

“Don’t worry Miss…“

“Lila,“ Lila said automatically.

“Lila, from Scottsdale,“ the man gave her a lazy smile.

He’d heard that?

“I’m Jackson.“

Of course. Why couldn’t he be Bernie or Felix?

“I won’t let you strain yourself. Never say I’m not a gentleman. You can take the one with the wheels.” With a wink he turned and headed toward a dimly lit walkway lined with fan palms and more vibrant, sweet-smelling flowers. Lila didn’t immediately follow. She could see the path veered toward the low buildings farthest from the bright lights and jovial sounds at the center of the resort.

“Better keep up if you want to avoid the ‘gators,” he called back into the still night air.

Lila grabbed the handle of the other bag and struggled to catch up. The overloaded wheels bumped erratically against the uneven pavers.

“You’re kidding about the alligators, right?” she asked, casting nervous glances into the shadowy bushes as they passed.

Jackson stopped so abruptly Lila came within inches from falling over him. She felt the heat radiate from his body and the fresh scent of saltwater filled her senses. He’d probably been in the sun all day, she thought. He turned to face her. In the fraction of moonlight that illuminated his face she could see he was serious.

“I spend most of my life out on the water. There’re two things I never joke about— predatory water creatures and the one that got away.”

Lila scrunched her eyebrows. He had to be kidding.

“As in…the fish that got away?” she asked, cursing herself the moment the question came out. What if he’d been referring to some girl he’d lost his heart to? It’d be just dandy for her to bring it up in the middle of a dark, unfamiliar path potentially littered with deadly reptiles. She wouldn’t blame him for dropping her luggage and letting her fend for herself.

“Could be,” he said, a slow grin spreading across his unsettlingly attractive features. His honeyed accent caressed the words. “Thing is, they never do get away.”

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