Last Name - Dr. Rebecca Sharp Page 0,26

me that put me between a rock and a hard place.

Either I addressed him informally, which felt inappropriate for the office, or I addressed him as Mr. Arden. But that was even more frightening, knowing without-a-doubt that the infuriating man would call me Mrs. Arden in return.

Inevitably, I swallowed my frustration and replied, “James.”

He grinned, knowing he won either way. And my stomach did a flip.

“You ready?”

I nodded. “Although, I don’t know why I have to actually go,” I drawled, standing from my desk and grabbing my things. “I thought I was just supposed to arrange the activities. Normally, the planner isn’t a participant.”

I stared him down.

I hadn’t been prepared to attend the picnic and lake adventures today, and I’d mentioned as much to him yesterday, only to receive a frantic call from Suzanne, claiming that I had to be there.

“Well, these aren’t normal circumstances.” He paused to make sure I got his unspoken inference. “This is a wedding, and that means we all have to do what the bride wants, lest she implode.”

I huffed and rolled my eyes.

“And you know Suzanne is made of glitter and sunshine, so if she implodes, we’re never going to be able to clean that sparkly shit up.”

I covered my mouth at the unexpected burst of laughter.

See? This was what I meant.

I had to fight to not feel comfortable. I had to fight to not want him.

“Okay, well I told her I would stop by and make sure everything was okay, but I can’t stay.”

His stare pinned me with a mix of admiration and amusement—a look I’d seen often enough over the last few days. My determination to keep this all business inspired him almost as much as it entertained him, knowing I was fighting more with myself than with him to maintain it.

It made sense he was a card counter. It made sense because every interaction with him felt like one more hand in a game I was destined to lose.

I might be the house, but he watched my every move. Every card I showed and all the ones I tried to keep hidden—he stacked and weighed them all, assessing the probability of each turn just how close I was to folding to the attraction between us.

And then he smiled, and I walked out of my office ahead of him, knowing that when that smile came out, all bets were off.

“Don’t worry, Carrie! I have an extra suit,” Suzanne exclaimed gleefully, reaching for her beach bag and pulling out a light-yellow one-piece that she pushed against my chest.

I held onto it with a gasp as she let go only to use my shoulders to spin me toward the restrooms.

“No—Suz, wait! I can’t—” I protested as my feet caved underneath the pressure from her hands and I stumbled toward the small building that housed bathrooms and a spot to change.

“Sure, you can,” she insisted, smiling over my shoulder. “We’re all going out. Except the parents. And trust me, you don’t want to be stuck on the beach with my parents for at least the next hour while they argue about sand and sandwiches and whose responsibility it was to pack the suntan lotion that was left behind.”

I glanced toward the group congregating near the water, picking out the older couple that was clearly involved in a heated disagreement.

“They’ll be okay once they’ve gotten a margarita or two in their system.” She grinned and pushed me into a stall, closing the door behind me.

I stared at the bathing suit in my hand, wondering how I’d ended up here.

I was supposed to be making my exit, not joining in the fun.

“I’m so glad you’re going to stay.”

My mouth that was open and about to protest clamped shut and swallowed a groan.

“Lynn is as thin as a rail and, as much as I love her”—because Suz loved everyone—“I have to say I’ll feel more comfortable with you out there. This way, I won’t be the only one with a healthy amount of curve out on the lake.”

I fought the urge to bang my forehead against the stall.

How I looked in a bathing suit was the least of my concerns this afternoon.

“Though, I’m sure she’ll be too preoccupied with James to want to give me a rundown of her latest diet or workout fad.”

Don’t do it, Carrie.

Don’t even think—

“What do you mean? Preoccupied?” The words spilled out.

There was a moment of silence. “I’ll tell you but you have to keep changing,” she replied as though she knew I