looked at her.
Okay, maybe she wasn’t completely impervious to him, but she did understand her own limitations. A man like Gunner Stevens would never be genuinely interested in a woman like her. He ran with the fast and the loose. A relationship with him would be very much like her first experience with Bill Sossaman. As soon as they went to bed, it would be all over.
The limo turned left into the cobbled driveway of the resort and wove through burnt-orange-, coffee- and bone-colored buildings, all with Mexican tile roofs and neatly tended grounds. The azure water of the ocean sparkled beneath the warm sun as April looked through the open-air reception area, beyond the massive decorative pools and palm trees, toward a white, absolutely pristine beach. Cabo was paradise. But April couldn’t relax. Not as long as Gunner Stevens was sitting so close to her. And not as long as so much depended on this trip.
“Has your mother arrived?” Gunner asked when they’d circled the water fountain and came to a stop at the curb.
“She flew in with me this morning.”
“So your father knows she’s here?”
“Not yet. He sent a driver to pick me up because he was in meetings with management all day. He wanted to come with me to get you, but I convinced him, in deference to our relationship, to let us have some time alone.”
“When will your parents meet?”
“Tonight at dinner.”
“I can hardly wait,” he said sarcastically.
April felt the same way.
The driver opened the door, but Gunner hesitated. “What have you told them about us?”
“I mentioned that you’ve called me occasionally.”
“Wouldn’t your mother know better? Doesn’t she live with you?”
“I said this has been going on at work, where I spend most of my time, anyway.”
“That’s all you told them?”
“That’s all it took to get them excited.”
“Then this will be a piece of cake,” he said, getting out.
April followed him and spotted her father striding through the lobby doors to meet them. Judging by his smile, she was right in what she’d just told Gunner—he still didn’t know that Claire was anywhere in the vicinity.
“Gunner.” Her father shook his hand as eagerly as he had at the Christmas party.
“Good to see you again, Walt,” Gunner replied.
“I feel the same. Especially now that I know you’re seeing my little girl.” Her father grinned proudly at her, and it was all April could do not to immediately confess the truth.
“She’s something else,” Gunner said, and April wondered if she was the only one who could see the laughter in his eyes.
Her father winked at her. “You bet she is. But you’d probably like to shower and change, so I won’t hold you up. I just wanted to welcome you to Cabo and tell you we’ll be having dinner on the beach tonight, at seven.”
“Sounds great.” Gunner turned toward April. She thought he was going to say something polite in parting. Instead, he took her by the shoulders, gave her a devilish grin and swept his mouth lightly across her lips. The scent of his aftershave raced to her head, along with the smell of orange on his breath. His fingers seemed to burn through her T-shirt, sending sensation in the other direction.
“See you at dinner,” he murmured.
April couldn’t answer. She was too busy telling her knees not to buckle.
AN HOUR LATER, when April stood in front of the mirror, a stranger stared back at her. She was wearing huarache sandals with a sarong-style skirt that rested low on her hips and a strappy turquoise T-shirt that revealed her arms, shoulders and a thin slice of midriff.
After Gunner’s kiss, April felt a little too exposed. She certainly didn’t want to do anything to encourage him. But her mother had just bought the entire outfit at the gift shop downstairs and wouldn’t hear of her wearing anything else. Claire was on one of her “don’t let life pass you by” tirades. And, knowing what they were about to face with her father, April didn’t want to upset her mother ahead of time.
“You look gorgeous,” her mother gushed.
April discounted the compliment as coming from someone who was blind to her faults, and examined her arms. “Are you sure that self-tanning stuff you made me try isn’t going to turn my skin orange?”
“I’m sure. The good lotions don’t do that anymore.”
Adjusting her sarong, April considered her reflection once again. “I don’t know, Mom. I can’t wear a bra with this shirt.”
“You’re not big enough to need a bra. But…” Her mother