Page 67 of The Billionaire Mismatch

As I rummage through my suitcase looking for a dress to wear, the door opens and Luca walks in. His eyes scan over my swimsuit more than once, and something flickers in his eyes. He runs his hand through his hair and turns to set his things down.

“Have fun at the pool?” he asks.

“It was lovely. But I definitely need a shower before dinner,” I say. “I was about to do that now.”

“Don’t bother,” he says, crossing the room to stand in front of me. I swallow hard, suddenly aware of every nerve in my body.

“No?” I ask softly. “Did you have something else in mind?”

I’m not supposed to sleep with him.

Well, I’m supposed to make him want to sleep with me. Then I’m supposed to hunt him down, accuse him of using me, and ask what his agenda is.

Do I care if he uses me?

“Dinner is actually going to be at a beach party,” he says.

“A beach party. Of course,” the words stumble out of my mouth along with a clumsy smile. There is a beat of awkward silence where Luca studies me curiously. His lips twitch in what I’ve come to learn is his version of amusement, and he takes a step back.

“You can shower and change if you want. I’m not going to tell you what to do. But considering we are just going to be in the sand, I think you’re dressed pretty appropriately. If you throw on a dress or a cover or something…”

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Luca is stumbling over his words. “You mean I shouldn’t show up at the dinner party in just a string bikini?” I tease.

“I think that would stir up some trouble,” he says with the same tone. The only difference is his voice is lower and grittier, and I swear my nipples grow hard under the fabric of my bikini top.

I’m also pretty sure Luca notices.

In desperate need to pull away from whatever tensions seems to be wrapping itself around us like a boa constrictor, I step back, breaking the invisible contact and snag the sheer, white coverup from my suitcase.

“Either way, I should freshen up,” I say, padding over to the bathroom and praying to God he can’t hear my heart slamming into my ribcage.

Something about this man makes every nerve in my body go haywire, and I need a second to recover. Especially if we aren’t going to do anything about it.

“So, what are you going to wear?” I ask as I touch up the small amount of makeup I am wearing. Just a dewy primer with a littlebit of mascara and lip stain. I run my fingers through my hair, which is already taking on the beach wave look.

“You mean I shouldn’t just wear what I have on now?” he asks, and I chuckle.

“It’s a bit warm for black slacks and wing-tipped shoes, don’t you think?” I ask.

“I always wear this,” he says, and I can hear him rummaging around.

“In Boston,” I answer. “But this is Miami.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” he mumbles. I turn to the door to see if he is actually upset with me, only to find him standing in nothing but his briefs.

It’s not the first time I’ve seen him in this little, or less for that matter, yet my cheeks still flush at the sight of his toned arms and legs, his broad shoulders, his hard pecks, his defined abs.

His body is perfect. Profile pic with a filter on, perfect.

Thanks for the reminder.

“Don’t worry,” he says, slipping into a white linen shirt, leaving the top two buttons undone and rolling the sleeves up just below his elbows. He pairs it with nautical blue slacks that are both semi-casual and fitted. “I do have clothes for the occasion. Are you ready?” he asks, and for a moment I have no idea how to answer the question. I know what he means, but it seems to imply so much more.

The dinner party is a whirlwind. Part of the beach is closed off to the public. It’s set up with white tables and chairs, catering,tiki lights, a live band, and of course, a pop-up bar. The food is amazing! There is everything from fish to shellfish to chicken and roasted potatoes and fresh fruit. It’s wild to be here with Luca Laurent as his date, sitting at the main table with other CEOs and their partners, surrounded by other people who work in the industry at partnering companies. Everyone from dating app designers to authors, online influencers, and even a couple of people I recognize from dating shows.

“Is that Lisa Devrise?” I ask, pointing across the way.

“It is,” Luca answers. “Lisa Hilding now. She and Colton got married a month ago. I can’t believe I know that.”