Ella paused, fork held out with a seared scallop on the end. “I asked if you were aware scallops had been added to the main course. I thought the groom hated seafood, particularly shellfish.” She set her fork down and picked up her wineglass, sipping slowly as she watched Liam with undisguised assessment.
“I know he doesn’t care for seafood in general, but I was under the impression scallops were the lone exception to that rule. It’s shrimp that will send him into a righteous fit of temper.”
“Shrimp? Why?”
“The first time I met the man was at a private dinner with my sister. She was in London for...” He waved off the explanation, not ready to disclose his sister’s identity. “Regardless, that’s where she chose to introduce me to him.”
“I take it things didn’t go well.”
“He ordered steak. There was a shrimp skewer on his plate as garnish, and the guy absolutely lost it. Berated the server, demanded to speak to the manager, told my sister to mind herself when she attempted to intervene and defuse the situation. Her fiancé humiliated her. Over shrimp.” Liam picked up his wineglass and swirled the contents but set the glass down without drinking. “It’s safe to say I’m not his biggest fan.”
“I’m sorry.”
Liam looked up, focusing on the woman across from him as the last wisps of the memory fanned the flames of temper. That had been a disastrous night. “Why are you sorry? You had nothing to do with it.”
“It’s clear it still bothers you.”
Liam shrugged then forked up a scallop and popped it into his mouth, enjoying the buttery flavor. He picked his glass up again but, this time, followed through and drank. The tannins in the wine cut the richness of the butter, the pairing perfect. If only he could say the same of his sister and her choice of groom. Setting his glass down once more, he met Ella’s direct gaze. “It’s over and done. She’s marrying him despite my suggestion she do otherwise.”
Arvin approached the table, stopping at Liam’s seat. “How is everything?”
Liam rose from his low seat and offered the other man a brief handshake. “Your staff has outdone themselves. The meal was incredible and the musicians positively brilliant.”
Arvin stammered as he tried to articulate his thanks.
Liam interrupted, waving him off. “I understand how much effort went into the planning and execution. You have my thanks and the same from my sister, I’m sure. If you’d have dessert served while the event’s primary entertainment performs, that would be lovely.”
“Of course, sir.” Arvin bowed deeply and then gestured to the musicians, saying something in Polynesian. The music grew softer and softer until it completely faded away. The ocean’s susurrus rush and retreat filled the void. Liam found himself able to breathe and, for the first time, truly appreciate the perfection of the locale Ella had selected for Jenna’s wedding. His sister was going to be thrilled with every aspect Ella had selected and designed.
And he was going to ruin it all.
He had no choice, though. Jenna’s fiancé was a fame-seeking, moneygrubbing, coattail-riding leech. Mike had moved in to her home, assumed use of her staff and drove her cars at his leisure. To the best of Liam’s knowledge, Jenna was footing the entire bill until the baseball player “made it big.”
Perhaps Liam would be able to convince her to spend a few days here with him after the wedding plans dissolved. She’d need the downtime. This would be the perfect place for her to recenter herself before she headed back to Hollywood. And, with Jenna here for a while, her publicist would be able to spin the breakup and place his sister in the best possible light. As for the groom? Mike could rot in hell as far as Liam was concerned. Let his dime-store publicist work out his personal spin.
A low, slow drumbeat began, and Liam swiveled to find a group of six women making their way onto the stretch of sand between the table’s edge and the surf. Each carried a large, lit tiki torch. They took their places and began to move as the drumbeat increased in tempo. Hips undulating, the women—clad in sarongs and bikini bottoms—swung the tiki torches like they were batons, splitting into two groups of three and holding the lights high before stabbing them into the sand as the drum thundered a final beat. Two performers moved to stand in front of the table. They swayed as the drums began to beat out a hypnotic rhythm, their hips seeming to move independent of the limitations set by the human body. They swiveled and shook while the women’s shoulders stayed straight and almost still, their arms so fluid as to seem boneless. Two more women joined, and then two more, and all six moved in a way that embodied the allure of the tropics, the appeal of intimate meals shared on fire-lit beaches and the promise of seduction that lay in the music’s every note.
One stepped forward and held out a hand to Ella. “Come.”
“Oh, no,” she replied, laughing, her eyes bright. “I don’t dance.”
The moon cast its light on Ella’s lush mane, highlighting it with luminous silver streaks. Her face was flushed from wine. The self-deprecating smile that decorated her face was so open, so unapologetic, so real. The last thread of his control began unraveling. When the dancer reached for her and Ella shook her head, Liam found himself moving forward without any awareness he’d set himself in motion. All he knew was he had to touch Ella. Right then. To see if the silver streaks in her hair were as cool as they appeared or, just maybe, as warm as the woman who bore them.
The distance between them disappeared, and Ella turned just as Liam reached out.
Warm. She was so warm.
“Liam?”
He didn’t say anything, simply took her glass and blindly held it out with the unspoken command that the dancer take it.
She did.
“Dance, Ella.” The murmured command rumbled up from within him, so deep that his chest vibrated with the sound. With the need that fueled it.
“I don’t dance,” she whispered.
“Tonight you do.”