Read Tempted in the Tropics for Free Online

Hawthorne looked expectantly from one of them to the other and back, which made Lane take a quick slug of his drink, yet Paige seemed unaffected. She leveled her gaze on him—her long, dark lashes framing her golden-brown eyes—and he started to get why people associated her with magic.
    …
    What the hell had Fairleigh Hawthorne been thinking? Paige was okay with the woman being the Queen and all that. Her highness had even gained more favor with Paige today when Paige had found out that Liza and her mom had also been invited to dinner. They’d lived in Maple Creek a long time ago, and had been part of the pie war and the World Series saga that followed, even though the Orioles had lost. As co-owners of the team, the Sutherlands could still be proud, and Liza had ended up happily engaged, so there’d still been a lot to celebrate.
    Since places like Hawthorne Manor were so totally out of her atmosphere, Paige figured she’d be way more relaxed there with people she knew well. On second thought, maybe being relaxed wasn’t such a good idea after all. There was no telling what might come out of her mouth. She’d given herself fair warning. But no amount of warning had prepared her to sit across the mile-long dining room table from the not-so-nice but oh-so-swoony Dr. Anderson.
    The man plain confused her. Most of the time, she had a pretty firm opinion about someone—one way or the other. He’d been unreasonable and, in her mind, unable to see the big picture when it came to the well-being of her customers and Dr. Hartley’s patients. Normally that would be enough to put him on her not-worth-my-time, avoid-whenever-possible list, which happened to be very short. He had annoyed her that much. But she couldn’t keep her mind—or her gaze—off him. So she officially registered her opinion as…mixed. She also refused to keep thinking of him as Dr. Anderson. He seemed to be Lane to everyone else, so he’d be Lane to her, too.
    And Sylvia and Liza know him? Small freakin’ world, for sure. Paige had a vague recollection of Liza talking about the Andersons, but she couldn’t recall ever hearing anything about Lane in particular. But since they were friends and all, maybe Liza and Sylvia could school him on loosening up a little. He’d definitely skipped class the day that was on the syllabus. Paige had liked the hipster cowboy look he had going when he’d stopped in at Sweet Bee’s, but she had to admit he could rock a sports jacket and oxford shirt, too. The whole button-down thing seemed more appropriate for him anyway, considering.
    The Queen could seat about thirty people at her immense dining room table. It seemed awkward to have only six people eat there, but Mrs. Hawthorne had the genius idea to buy a burl-wood table that was gracefully curved at the ends, allowing them to sit in an intimate semi-circle.
    The arrangement had Paige seated last on one side and Lane on the other. She couldn’t look straight ahead without staring him in the face. With every glance, her mind took off to all kinds of forbidden places. She imagined the feel of his sexy stubble beneath her fingers, the touch of his lips on hers.
    How desperate are you? She needed to focus on her pork chop, or on Mayor Warren, who sat next to her, or even on the conversation, which she’d lost track of right about the time she’d envisioned her fingers combing thorough Lane’s tousled curls. That had been before the five o’clock shadow thoughts and definitely before she’d imagined the kiss. But her fingers in his hair could work just as well during and after the kiss, too…
    “Right, Paige?” Liza asked.
    Dammit. Paige swallowed a delicious bite of potatoes au gratin while everyone waited for her to answer. She grinned. “Could you repeat the question?”
    The Queen’s eyes widened as if she couldn’t believe Paige’s social ineptitude, even while Liza and Sylvia chuckled.
    Paige’s stomach sank with more than the weight of a