Betrayal (Infidelity Book 1) - Aleatha Romig Page 0,17

white shirt he wore was unbuttoned at the neck and his strong jaw was covered with just a hint of stubble. Whoever this man was, he wore the combination of casual and class with ease.

I remained still as his grin grew and he scanned me from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. Just like earlier at the pool, the gaze of his light blue eyes burned my skin, sending a rush of heat and leaving goose bumps in its wake. I found myself lost in the paleness of his eyes. Like pools of liquid, I imagined drowning in their depths, and then they settled on mine.

“Welcome, Charli with an i. I’m very glad you accepted my invitation.” Flutters like butterfly wings filled my tummy as I searched the horizon for clouds of an impending storm. There were none. It was him. His voice did roll like the low rumble of thunder.

I continued to remind myself to do as Chelsea would do. With all the issues that girl had in her life, lack of confidence was never one of them. As he closed the distance between us, I stood as tall and resolute as I could, diligently fighting the urge to look away.

When we were merely inches apart, I replied, “It wouldn’t be very nice of me to refuse my husband.” My cheeks flushed at the sound of my own words. Although I hadn’t meant them the way they sounded, I saw in his micro-expression that he heard the alternative meaning.

“That’s good to know,” he said with a grin.

Damn, maybe I am channeling Chelsea.

I closed my lips to stop the explanation from spilling out while trying to maintain my air of composure. Looking past his handsome face, I nodded toward the ocean, as the sun sunk closer to the horizon.

“This is an absolutely stunning view.”

“Yes, Charli. I couldn’t agree more.”

I turned back to him, but his eyes weren’t on the setting sun. They were on me.

“I wondered if you could be as beautiful as you were this morning, wearing more than you had at the pool.” He cocked his head to the side. “I no longer need to wonder.”

Blood filled my cheeks, but before I could respond, the woman who’d met me at the elevator came out onto the patio pushing a cart. When I turned her direction, she was taking the cart toward a small table with two chairs. It was off to the side, in an area with a glass partition that blocked the sea’s breeze. The small table was covered in white linen and in the center was a flickering flame within a glass globe.

“Would you like to have a seat?” he asked, reaching for my elbow and leading me toward the table.

I almost jumped at the touch of his warm skin against mine. Electricity like I’d never felt surged through my veins, setting off detonations at each synapse. My eyes snapped to his, and for just a moment, I believed he felt the same thing, but just as quickly, his expression returned to its casual, confident demeanor.

“Yes,” I said, trying also to ignore the chemistry that threatened to knock me off my feet. “Thank you. You didn’t need to go to all this trouble.”

He laughed. “It wasn’t me. It was all Mrs. Witt. She was happy when she learned that I wasn’t dining alone.”

My knees bent as he helped me with my chair. I turned toward Mrs. Witt. “Thank you. It’s lovely.”

“I can’t take credit for the cooking. It all came from the dining room. However, I did choose the menu,” she said confidently. “I do hope you enjoy seafood.”

“I do.”

My mystery man began to pour a light-colored wine into my glass. It was then I noticed the bucket with ice beside the table and the private pool on the other side of the partition.

“It’s a chardonnay.” He lowered his voice. “I know we’re in California, but I’m partial to this label. It’s from the Burgundy region of France. Just don’t tell anyone I’m not supporting local wineries.”

“I promise,” I said, leaning forward. “Your secret is safe with me.”

I saw his gaze lower toward my breasts. But instead of calling him out or covering myself, I remembered my invisible bracelet and sat tall, leaving the V of my dress in full view. I’d never been a fan of my breasts. For most of my teenage years they didn’t exist. And then one day, my B-cups overflowed. I truly don’t know what happened—genetics