Dani Collins - Secrets Of The A-List Box Set, Volume 3

She hitched the material higher until her upper thigh was visible. A deep tingle charged through to his fingertips as he fought the urge to glide his hand up the back of her leg, investigate for himself if her naked flesh was as smooth as it looked.

The knowledge that he was seconds away from developing a tent in his pants had him grabbing Vanessa’s ankle and pulling it toward him. And hell if her skin wasn’t as warm and silky as he’d known it would be.

He ignored her gasp, concentrated on shoving the damned piece of silk over her foot and up her leg with minimum contact.

All around him, the wolf whistles had started again, louder this time, perhaps because the guests sensed something more? Because he wasn’t the only man turned on by the sight of her exposed leg?

Another emotion—a hot, green, slimy one he recognized as jealousy—spiked through him.

Jesus, what was wrong with him?

Luc pulled the garter up and over her knee. The moment it reached the vicinity of her upper thigh, he dropped his hands and lurched to his feet.

Had it been any other woman, he would’ve held out his hand to help her stand. To accept the suggestive congratulations he was receiving with a smile.

But this was Vanessa.

The woman whose Keep Off signs were flashing as big as the Hollywood sign. Hell, she was already putting daylight between them by sidling away.

Awesome.

Luc turned away and stalked toward the nearest waiter. He grabbed a drink and downed it just so he wouldn’t have to make conversation with anyone just yet. He needed a moment to get his head—and libido—under control.

He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or resigned when he saw Rachel making a beeline for him.

He swallowed the last of his champagne just as she reached him. Her smile was still in place, but her eyes were edged in steel. As were the fingers she laced through his in blatant possession.

“I think it’s time we said our goodbyes, don’t you?” she suggested pointedly.

Luc discarded his glass, then gave a curt nod. “Sure. Lead the way, sweetheart.”

He didn’t mind that she all but dragged him through their hasty goodbyes and bossed him all the way out the door.

Like Vanessa, he was more than ready to put some daylight between himself and the unwanted feelings she drew so effortlessly from him.

Chapter Three

A few days later

Elana untied her white sarong, dropped it on the lounger and dived into the blissfully cool waters of her private infinity pool. She swam a few lengths of the black-and-aqua-tiled pool before she slowed to a stop, braced her arms on the edge and basked in the view.

Their three-bedroom Balinese honeymoon villa was beyond spectacular. Perched on the side of a hill with a secluded bay beyond the extensive grounds, the tropical paradise was stunning enough to make Elana’s jaw drop. In the four days since they’d been here, their every wish had been catered to and exceeded.

Although she was reluctant to admit it, she felt miles better now that the wedding was behind her and she was a world away from Santa Barbara and the fraught situation with her dad.

She’d been pampered to within an inch of her life, and the first signs of stress relief she’d felt when she and Thom boarded her family’s private jet at Van Nuys airport had finally bloomed into full-blown relaxation. And the extra bonus was the disappearance of the nausea that had plagued her. It was enough for her to conclude that old woman’s comment in the bathroom before the wedding had been exactly what she’d thought it was at the time—complete crap! But, truth be told, she’d been seriously worried there for a while that she was pregnant. Hell, the thought had lingered long enough to ruin her drinking at her own wedding, save for a few sips of champagne to prevent any probing questions.

But just as quickly as it’d started, her nausea had abated. And now all of that worrying nonsense was behind her, she could truly enjoy her honeymoon.

Bali was truly beautiful, and their piece of heaven even more so.

A tiny part of her wished she and Thom could stay here forever. She didn’t want to go back to Santa Barbara and spend endless hours watching the worry on her mother’s face she tried so hard to hide, or witnessing Luc and Rafe skirt each other like cage fighters about to tear each other to pieces.

Above all, she didn’t want to go back to having Jarrod within tempting distance. In fact, she didn’t feel like thinking about or even seeing Jarrod again.

Liar.

She smothered the pang of guilt. Sure, she missed him. Missed the excitement he evoked in her. Missed the illicit thrill of their connection. Missed the unmistakable power of his cock inside her, pounding her to mind-altering ecstasy.

But this was her honeymoon.

She was married now.

Thom was a good, sweet man, if a little clueless at times. The sex wasn’t exactly setting her world on fire, but surely there was more to life, and marriage, than great sex, right?

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

She jumped at the voice that scattered her thoughts. “What?”

“You’re staring at your wedding ring and frowning,” Thom observed from his relaxed position on the lounger next to the one she’d been using.

Beside him stood a silver bucket with a bottle of Dom Pérignon chilling on ice. On the low, wide table, next to twin crystal champagne glasses, a platter of appetizing hors d’oeuvres prepared by their personal chef was ready to be devoured.

She quickly smoothed her features, suppressing thoughts of Jarrod and the toe-curling orgasms he’d given her the night before the wedding. “Am I?” she asked absently, weaving her legs in the water to cool her rising temperature.

“Yes. Should I be worried?” he asked with eyebrows raised.

She forced a laugh. “Of course not, silly. I... I was just think about my dad,” she lied blithely.

Thom sat up, tossed his gold-rimmed Ray-Bans onto the table and stared at her with worried eyes. “You haven’t heard anything, have you? Has he taken a turn for the worse?” he asked.

“No. At least I hope not. I’m taking no news to be good news.” She attempted to smile, a little regretful she’d spoiled the lovely atmosphere with lies and thoughts of her married lover. “I wish he could’ve been at the wedding, though.”

Thom rose and approached where she was clinging to the side of the pool. In his turquoise swimming shorts and the darker coffee tan he’d achieved in the few days they’d been in Bali, her husband’s sleek, athletic figure was eye-catching enough to capture and hold her attention. He had a six-pack most men would envy, he moved with an inherent grace and his face and soulful brown eyes were movie-star gorgeous.

He was a catch. She couldn’t deny that.

When he folded his tall length down beside her and dangled his legs in the pool, she looked up into his face, wishing he evoked the same thrill in her that Jarrod did.

She smashed the thought away as Thom reached out and gently cradled her cheek. “I wish your dad had been there, too. But I’m sure he’s being well taken care of. Try not to worry too much, okay?”

Sudden tears clogged her throat, his unfettered concern touching her. She wasn’t sure why she felt so emotional lately. Again that pang of guilt pierced her. She quickly blinked the tears away, blaming it on the final release of all the pre-and post-wedding jitters. She should be enjoying her honeymoon, not second-guessing the choices she’d made.

Thom cared for her. She wasn’t sure what she felt for him was love—maybe just deep friendship—but she truly believed they could make this work.

The smile she managed to summon felt natural, and she breathed an inward sigh of relief as she laid her hand over his and basked in his affectionate smile. “Okay, I’ll think only positive thoughts.”