“I’m beyond frustrated,” he said. And damn the agreement.
Her eyes widened, as if she’d heard the unsaid words. It was time to stop hiding from the inevitable. He was going to make love to his wife tonight, and to hell with the consequences.
Eleven
Natalie couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Garrett wasn’t acting any differently than usual, but she got goose bumps every time he glanced at her. He exuded the air of a panther who was leisurely circling his cornered prey.
She was probably imagining things after the heated episode earlier. The need to touch and be touched had risen like a primal instinct, and her body had screamed to take him inside her. Breaking away from his arms was harder than she could’ve imagined, but she’d been certain he would’ve done the same thing once his cool logic pierced through the fog of lust. She’d withdrawn from his embrace in the nick of time, self-preservation coming to the rescue.
Natalie sat on the couch and tied her shoes with excessive care. She heard Garrett moving behind the closed doors of the bedroom, and willed herself not to imagine him changing. She grabbed the remote and flipped through the channels. Every time she peeked at the clock, it seemed to be standing still, as though its hands were bound by invisible string. It was almost time for their tennis match with the Diazes. She wanted out of the oddly charged villa before she jumped her husband.
“Are you ready?” he asked as he strode into the living room. He wore a black polo shirt and shorts, looking thoroughly fit and masculine.
“Yes.” She bolted to her feet and shot out the door, her heart beating erratically at the sight of him.
The sun was making its leisurely descent and the cool breeze felt lovely on her warm cheeks. They rumbled toward the tennis court in a golf cart, and some of the tension left her shoulders. It had just been a kiss—a long kiss with some heavy petting, but just a kiss nonetheless. She would put it past her. A glance at her husband’s calm, easy expression said he already had.
When they arrived, Garrett tipped the driver while Natalie glanced toward the court. The Diazes were already there, stretching. These people meant business.
“I see them over there,” she said, waving.
They had to be well into their fifties but looked as lithe and athletic as people half their age. They were decked out in matching white outfits as though tennis was their second career. Natalie’s pulse leaped with excitement. Worthy opponents.
Garrett grimaced by her side, not half as excited as she. But she didn’t buy his claims of being rusty at the game. Her husband’s every movement spoke of strength and agility. If he’d forgotten how to swing a racquet, he was going to pick it right back up during the warm-up sets.
“What’s your plan?” His eyes danced with mischief. “Should we throw the game to stoke Sebastian’s ego? That should help me gain his support.”
Natalie gasped. “Don’t even joke about something like that. The only way to seal the partnership is to annihilate them and earn their respect.”
“Annihilate them?” Her husband arched an eyebrow.
She shrugged, fighting a blush. “Or just kick their butts a little.”
“I don’t know how we got talked into this.”
“Here are the newlyweds,” Sebastian said as he and Camilia approached.
“You’ll go easy on us, right?” Garrett smiled and shook his hand.
“Not a chance,” the older man said.
Camilia hugged Natalie, squealing like a young girl. “I’m so glad we could do this.”
“Me, too,” Natalie said. Traci used to tell her she got too competitive sometimes, but it was all good, harmless fun. She just really liked to win, and there was nothing wrong with that. “Should we hit some warm-up balls?”
To her disappointment, Garrett actually was a bit rusty. His serves were poetic, but his backhand needed work. And Camilia and Sebastian were even better than Natalie had assumed.
“Damn it, Garrett.” Natalie tried to keep the impatience out of her voice but he gave the Diazes an easy point. “That was your ball.”
“Sorry, honey.” His lips twitched. “I got distracted. Your skirt is way too short for me to be on my game.”
What has gotten into him?
“Thank you, Natalie,” Sebastian guffawed from across the net.
It was a close second set. Her limbs ached and her lungs burned. They could still win if they took the next set. Garrett hadn’t made any more careless mistakes, but she had a feeling he wasn’t putting in his full effort.
She glanced over her shoulder and saw him spinning his racquet in his hand, looking damn fine in his fitted polo and shorts. The man had seriously muscular thighs and his biceps flexed and bulged with every movement. He caught her checking him out and his face split into a slow, sexy grin.