Page 6 of Daring Lance

Lance lowered his eyebrows over his nose. What the hell was Antonio talking about? They were likely stuck in south Florida for at least another three months, and more importantly, why would Willow need to go to Brazil to translate the movie? Before Lance could figure out Antonio’s comment, his friend spoke up.

“We have assignments in a lot of different countries. Lance has lived all over the world and loves moving around. Don’t you, Lance?”

“Yeah,” chimed in Cam. “He’s lived in more countries than Antonio and I combined. He loves to travel. Pretty cool, right!”

Lance lowered his forehead into the outstretched fingers of his right hand and clamped his eyelids together. “Guys, I hardly think Willow cares about the countries I’ve lived in as she has probably lived in twice as many as I have.” Lance darted his head upward to stare directly at Willow. He clenched his stomach muscles together as he struggled to explain himself. “Madison, ah, sort of mentioned that you lived all over the world growing up.”

The previous smile that had lit up Willow’s face disappeared, leaving Lance to wonder what he’d said wrong. Was she upset to know that he had spoken to Madison about her?

“Yeah, I have. My parents were foreign diplomats, so we moved around a lot, and while it helped me improve the many languages that I learned from my parents, I never felt that any place was home until we finally settled in Hawaii when I was in high school. If my mom and dad hadn’t decided to move to South Korea to be near my mom’s family, I would still be in Hawaii. I don’t like moving. I’m hoping to make South Florida home for good.”

Lance struggled to hide his surprise. He had not expected such an admission from Willow, and to be honest with himself, he found it disappointing. He wouldn’t admit to anyone but himself that his imagination had taken him to places where there was a remote possibility of them starting something that let them travel together. Damn, did she really plan to make South Florida, home of heaven’s waiting room with the average resident’s age of a hundred and seventy, her permanent residence? What was Willow thinking?

“Oh, ah, huh,” said Cam.

“For, like, ever?” asked Antonio.

Willow laughed and again, tiny prickles crept along Lance’s skin, causing each of his senses to stand at attention. “Yup, I plan to be a native South Floridian.”

Cam and Antonio swung their heads toward Lance, and Lance found himself unable to do much more than shrug. “Whatever works for you,” Lance finally replied.

Willow stared back at him, and Lance swore, for a second, that he caught something akin to regret in her eyes. Convinced he was mistaken, he swallowed and forced a grin to curve the corner of his mouth. “Better up your bingo skills.”

Willow smiled and the link they shared, if only for a moment, was broken. “Yeah, right. It was great seeing you guys again. I better get going. I heard there’s ballroom dancing lessons later this afternoon in the grand salon, and I don’t want to miss it!”

Lance chuckled as her sense of humor was not lost on him. “Better get there early as everyone is sure to be there on time, so they can wrap things up midafternoon. The early bird specials at the local restaurants start by five, and no one wants to miss out.”

Willow shook her head and gave him a look that, if he hadn’t known better, he swore held a moment of longing. But Willow wasn’t interested in him. She’d said so herself, and it wasn’t likely that he could change her mind. “Good point. See you guys later.”

Lance watched her take no more than a few steps before he forcibly turned his head toward the beach to keep his interest in her from being more obvious than it already was. “You guys want to go for a swim?”

Antonio took a long draw from his beer before-Lance was sure-he intentionally moved his gaze toward the sky and laid back against his lawn chair. “Hell, no. You heard Willow, there’s sharks in the water. She must be crazy to take those type of risks. You’re best to avoid her. Too much of a danger-seeker.”

Cameron caught Lance’s gaze for the briefest of moments before Cam grunted and then lowered himself down against the back of the chaise lounge as well. “Yeah, Antonio’s right. You dodged a bullet with her. Glad you’re not interested. I say we all take a nap and then hitFlannigan’sto watch the game tonight. That’s my plan.”

Lance shook his head. It was ridiculous that his best friends felt bad for him because they thought he had a thing for Willow that was never going to go anywhere. He held a temporary attraction for her. That’s all. Three weeks spent thinking about her more often than not didn’t mean he was serious about her. He simply hadn’t found anyone to replace her with in his mind yet. That was all.

He would be in Boca Raton, Florida, for only for a few more months. His original assignment of covering for his honeymooning brother for a few weeks had morphed into his crew overseeing an additional project in the area. He would be off again come winter, heading up another project, hopefully situated on a South American beach, where beautiful women were in abundance, and Willow’s green eyes, sparkling in the sunlight, would rapidly fade from his memory. Lance ran his fingers through the hair on the side of his head.

He decided to go for a swim, and with any luck, he’d see a nurse shark big enough to knock some sense into him, erasing Willow from his mind. It was clear that any chance of something developing between the two of them was zero. Lance was born to travel the world, seeking out new adventures…wasn’t he? He never wanted to live more than a few months in any one place…didn’t he? Lance gave himself a mental shake. Willow didn’t appear to want to pack a suitcase anytime soon, and that was fine by him. Nope, the raven-haired beauty was not for him, and he was glad to have figured that out now so he could work on banishing her from his thoughts. With a resigned sigh and a tightness in his chest, he grabbed his snorkeling gear from his bag, then stood up and walked toward the beach, prepared to seek out some creatures lurking underneath the water’s surface, anything to shake off the sense of disappointment that had taken a hold of him.

THREE

The doorbell rang, causing Willow to look up from her computer screen for the first time in over two hours. It was five-thirty on a Monday night, and for the life of her, she couldn’t imagine who might be at her door. There was a part of her that hoped it might be Lance, but since meeting him and his friends on the beach a few days ago, she hadn’t seen nor heard from him-not even a text asking her to walk the dogs while he was at work. Apparently, she wasn’t his type as well, as a friend or otherwise.

The ringer buzzed for the second time, and Willow decided she’d better answer it. For all she knew, the condominium’s board members had installed spy cameras on all of the front doors, so someone knew that she was currently home.

“Hello?” Willow took a step back in surprise as she made a quick note of the three women crowding her doorway. She presumed they were residents of the building because they each wore a house coat in different, vibrant patterns, all with matching slippers. One of the women even had pink rollers in her hair. Surely, even in Boca Raton, women didn’t leave their homes in their house coats? That fact alone had to make them residents of Regency Palms.

An elderly woman of no more than five-foot-tall beamed back at Willow, lavender lipstick staining her lips and one of her front teeth. “Hello, Willow! I’m Bernadette, and this is Lily and Ruby. Lance sent us.” As if that was enough explanation, the old woman used her cane to push the front door completely open so she could enter the apartment, her two companions following close on her heels. Willow, speechless, was left with little else to do but step out of their way.

“Ah, come on in. Did you say Lance sent you?” Willow was finally able to ask the question once she’d found her voice.

The woman who Bernadette indicated was Lily, and who Willow swore had to have been an octogenarian for at least five years, walked into the apartment and placed a large pitcher of margaritas on the coffee table nestled between the living room couch and a pair of overstuffed chairs. “Of course, he did. We live in the building, and at the pool today, we explained the situation to him. He said you could help us.”

Willow’s gaze darted back and forth between the three women. “The situation? And I could help?” Willow shut the door to her apartment, but not before peering down the hallway to see if there were any other residents lingering in the area and seeking entrance to her place.

“Set the glasses down on the table, so Willow can pour us each a drink, Ruby.” Bernadette settled her small frame in one of the chairs close to the coffee table. “Ruby’s arthritis causes her hands to shake, spilling margaritas everywhere. Complete waste of good tequila.”

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