Island Affair (Keys to Love #1) - Priscilla Oliveras Page 0,21

him to suggest. But she never would have guessed this.

Tears pricked Sara’s eyes. Relief, warm and comforting, seeped over her, rising to clog her throat as she stared back at him with awe and gratitude.

“Mission accepted,” she answered softly.

“Yes.” He hissed the word in triumph, his outstretched hand slapping the table between them. “So, if we start to feel the heat from their questions about us, we’ll turn the hoses on them.”

“Oh my goodness,” Sara groaned good-naturedly. “Again with the firefighter analogies.”

He gave her a playful wink that should not have curled her toes or spurred the butterflies in her belly as easily as it did.

To quote Mamá Alicia’s most frequent exclamation . . . ?Ay Dios mío!

Sara gulped down her dismay. Oh my god indeed. Like her favorite summer linen skirt if she’d been seated too long, her zany scheme suddenly developed a new wrinkle. A big wrinkle she needed to steam-iron out immediately, or she’d risk making another mistake in her personal life.

Luis Navarro would be oh, so easy to fall for if she wasn’t careful. But jumping into another long-distance relationship, with a guy she’d offered to pay to spend time with her, was most definitely a no. Totally nonnegotiable.

Her relationship with Ric had started fast and furious and for all the wrong reasons. Namely, to please her parents. Exactly like her current situation with Luis.

Sara refused to confuse his friendly assistance with anything more serious. Doing so could only end badly.

From inside her purse, Sara’s cell phone vibrated. She reached for it without thinking, immediately sucking in a sharp breath when she saw the text notification from her mother.

Landed and picked up our car. Will meet you and Ric at the rental house shortly.

“What’s wrong?”

Luis’s sharp question cut through the whirr of doubts suddenly buzzing in her ears.

What if this didn’t work?

This had to work.

But what if they crash and burned?

Heart in her throat, second-guesses scrambling through her brain like invaders intent on demolishing the getting-to-know-you bridge she and Luis had built between them, she met his inquisitive gaze. “My parents landed and are on their way to our rental. In your jargon, the fire alarm just rang. Looks like we’re up.”

Luis stretched his arm across the concrete picnic table, palm up. “If you’re sure this is what you want to do, I’m with you, Sara. We got this.”

Her gaze dropped to his open palm. An invitation. A belief in her. A commitment the likes of which she’d wanted from a loved one for years. Only, this commitment was temporary. An illusion.

“Sara? What do you want to do?” Luis asked, his voice calm, certain. Devoid of even the slightest hint of pressure or doubt.

Exactly how she yearned to feel when surrounded by her family. Maybe, just maybe, Luis could help her achieve that.

Sara let her eyes drift closed as she sent a plea for extra good luck prayers from Mamá Alicia above. Then, her heart pounding, she placed her hand in his, hoping that, together, she and Luis could pull off this convoluted plan she had concocted.

Chapter 5

The closer they got to the rental house in downtown Key West, the tighter Sara’s death grip strangled her leather purse strap. The faster her left leg bobbed up and down on the ball of her foot, evidence of the jitters she was doing a terrible job of hiding.

While Luis wasn’t too keen on lying to her family, he was even less inclinded to mess this up for Sara. Based on her current state, he’d have to figure out how to help her get over her nerves. Fast.

Luis made a left onto Eaton, then had to wind up and down a few of the Old Town streets, keeping his eyes peeled for an open spot big enough for his truck. All the while he remained aware of Sara, shoulders stiff and her face pale. If she wasn’t careful, the nervous bite she had on her full lower lip would draw blood.

Finally, a gray van pulled out about a block away from the rental house, and Luis parallel parked under the shade of a sprawling poinciana tree. The tiny bright orange-red flowers that gave the tree its Spanish name, flamboyán, thanks to its fiery, flamboyant colors, popped against the pale blue sky background. A dusting of the flame-colored petals and green fern-like leaves coated the cracked sidewalk in front of a two-story wooden Conch house under renovation.

Leaving the engine running so the AC would cool the cab, Luis laid a