She should have known. Pleasure Cove, once a sleepy little fishing and beach town favored by old money snowbirds and retirees, had quickly become a playground for the upwardly mobile and nouveau riche. There were at least three new resorts and as many condos under construction. “Which hotel?”
“Pleasure Cove Luxury Resort.”
“The crown jewel of Pleasure Cove,” she said, echoing the ad. “I saw the renderings online. It’s going to be unlike anything in Pleasure Cove.”
“That’s the plan.” He tapped the table. “But that’s enough about me. I want to hear all about you, birthday girl.”
Maya was relieved when the server interrupted them. The woman introduced herself, set down two glasses of water and rattled off the specials.
Maya ordered, then quickly added, “Separate checks, please.”
“I invited you to dine with me as my guest. Allow me to pay for your meal.”
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t, and I insist. Can’t allow you to pay for your own birthday meal.” He gave a mock shudder. “How uncivilized.”
She held back a grin. “My sister couldn’t make it tonight, but she’s paying. So, if that’s your concern, we’re good.” Maya shifted her gaze back to the server. “Separate checks, please.”
“If that’s what you really want.” He gave her a conciliatory smile.
Maya nodded, relieved he’d given in so easily. She’d ordered steak and lobster. Best not to give Hot Suit Guy any ideas.
“I detect a faint accent, Maya. Are you native to Pleasure Cove?” Liam studied her.
Something about his gaze unnerved her. It penetrated her skin with a heat that trailed down her spine. “My mother is Cuban and speaks English with a heavy accent. My dad, who is African American, was a marine on active duty until I was about six. My maternal grandmother, who only spoke Spanish, lived with us, so my brother and I learned Spanish and English simultaneously. I’m fluent in both. I do have a slight accent, but mostly when—”
“You’re nervous?” One side of his mouth curved, deepening the dimple in his right cheek. “Can’t imagine why I’d make you nervous.”
Another server decanted a bottle of wine, then poured a glass for each of them. Maya picked up her glass so fast it nearly sloshed over the rim. She took a healthy sip.
Why does he make me so nervous?
If she’d met him in her business attire, and this wasn’t a semidate, she’d be confident. In control. She frequently negotiated with business executives in her work. She wasn’t easily intimidated, regardless of how rich or powerful those men were.
However, in a tiny red dress that left little of her legs and back to the imagination, she felt like a warrior going to battle without a stitch of armor.
Liam drank his wine, silently awaiting her answer.
“Sorry, I don’t do this much.” She took another sip from her wineglass.
“You don’t do what much?” He was definitely enjoying this.
“Date.” She immediately regretted her word choice. “Not that this is a date.”
“Isn’t it?”
“It’s a dinner date, but it isn’t a date-date. Does that make sense?” Of course not. She was babbling like a loon.
The smirk he tried to suppress brimmed over in his dark eyes. He set his glass on the table. “And why is it that a gorgeous woman like you doesn’t date much?”
“Because I’m...” A single mother of two beautiful little girls. The words caught at the back of her throat, taking her by surprise. It was the most natural thing in the world for her to say. She repeated the words, nearly by rote, every time she met someone new in a nonbusiness setting. Being Sofia and Gabriella’s mother was her primary identity, no matter what else she did in her life. She was fine with that, because she adored her daughters. Loved them more than anything in the world. Yet, as she looked at Liam, his eyes dancing over her skin, drinking her in like she was the most fascinating woman he’d ever met, something in the pit of her stomach wouldn’t allow the words to escape her mouth.
Would he look at her differently? Would she suddenly seem less attractive?
It was her birthday. The last of her twenties. For one night she could sit through a gourmet meal she didn’t have to cook and have an adult conversation with a man who thought she was beautiful. A man whose appreciative gaze made her feel beautiful—something she hadn’t felt in a while.
What was the harm in living out the fantasy for one hour of dinner conversation? She wouldn’t lie to him. But he was a stranger. He didn’t need her full biography. She’d give him the annotated version instead.
Maya cleared her throat. “I work for a small nonprofit organization. The community need is greater than our available resources, so we’re seriously understaffed. Keeps me busy. Between that and everything else in my life, there’s not much time for dating.”
There. Question answered.
“Everything else, like what?”
“I volunteer for a variety of organizations.” Also true. The PTA, the local girls’ club and the girls’ soccer league.
The server arrived with their salads before he could pose his next question. Glad for the distraction, Maya returned the conversation to him. “How long have you been in Pleasure Cove?”
His knowing grin indicated her maneuver hadn’t gone unnoticed. “A few months.”
“And how long will you stay?”
“For the next year, maybe two.” He didn’t look happy about it.
Maya wanted to ask why, but it felt too personal. She opted for safer topics like the weather and restaurants around town she’d recommend.
“So, how many birthday licks shall I administer this evening?”
So much for safe topics.
“Most women would consider that question rude.” She picked up her wineglass. “But I don’t mind telling you. I turned twenty-nine today. Too old for birthday licks.”
His eyes danced. “Spanking not your style, then?”
Maya nearly choked on her wine. She set the glass down roughly. He was teasing her to see how she’d react. Still, it was better to be clear about where the night was going, or rather where it wasn’t. “Let’s just file that under Things You’ll Never Need to Know.” His hearty chuckle made her laugh, too. She shook her head. “The moment I saw you, I knew you were trouble.”
He shrugged. “Some might agree. Though it’s often a case of being misunderstood, despite my clearly stated intentions. How can I possibly be to blame for such a thing?”
Maya took a piece of French bread from the basket and dipped it into the plate of herb-infused olive oil. She raised her eyes to his. “So the brokenhearted women you’ve probably left in your wake...they were all to blame?”
His eyes widened with surprise, then narrowed as he watched her eat her bread. “I’m not one for long-drawn-out relationships,” he stated without apology. “I don’t see how I could possibly be any clearer about it.”
Maya laughed. “The thing is, we don’t believe you when you say that. We’re convinced you just haven’t found the right woman. That we’ll be the one to make an honest man out of you. So, unless you find a woman who has zero interest in a long-term relationship, you’re going to break her heart, whether you intend to or not.”
Liam looked thoughtful, almost sad for a moment, as he sipped his wine.