“Run to that house with the red gate.” Remy pointed. “Tell Celeste that Remy needs her.” Would she be home? It was Sunday. Church.

  Damn it.

  He touched the backs of his fingers to Eden’s cheek. Heat exhaustion? There was still a fresh morning breeze, not the full humid heat of the afternoon.

  He examined her hands and feet, looking for bites or scratches. His mind was running through all that they’d eaten. She hadn’t had breakfast yet. Was it low blood sugar? Was she diabetic?

  Why didn’t he know everything about her?

  “Come on, Eden.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Wake up.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  “REMY!”

  Eden heard someone call his name, but was too confused to make sense of who it could be. She was on a warm, lumpy bed that was both comfortable and not. Cool, but in a nice way.

  She opened her eyes and sunlight shot straight into the back of her brain, causing spots behind her eyelids, which she’d reflexively clenched against the brightness.

  How many people had she seen? Three? Four? Remy and some children?

  “No,” she groaned, recalling how her vision had gone white. “Did I faint?”

  “Yes. No. Stay there.” Remy’s heavy hand pressed her shoulder, forcing her to remain on the sand. “This is my auntie Celeste. She’s a doctor. This is Eden, Auntie.”

  Eden peeked against the sun and glimpsed a buxom woman in her late sixties wearing a yellow dress and a madras headscarf. She was sinking down to one knee beside Eden.

  “Bonjour, Eden. Let me check your pulse.”

  “I’m okay,” Eden insisted. “Please don’t be alarmed.”

  “I’m actually retired.” Celeste picked up her wrist. “Too old to be running down a beach, so let’s both take a moment to catch our breath.” She took a slow inhale, rolling her free hand to encourage Eden to breathe with her.

  They took three or four breaths together, then Celeste released Eden’s wrist.

  “Your pulse is a little weak.”

  “I’m fine. Honestly,” Eden insisted.

  “Pregnant?”

  “No.”

  “Possibly,” Remy corrected grimly.

  Celeste’s glance toward Remy conveyed about a thousand questions, emotions and layers of parental disapproval, but her voice remained reassuring as she asked, “How far along would you be, Eden?”

  “It’s low blood pressure,” Eden said with a grimace of embarrassment. “It’s not serious. It happens sometimes when it’s hot, if I stand up too fast. I take salt pills, but...” She risked a glance at Remy. “I didn’t take them for the last week because I didn’t want to retain any water.” For the wedding.

  Remy made a noise of disgust and pushed to his feet, looking as though he was warming up to lecture her into a watery grave.

  “You need an electrolyte replacer,” Celeste said.

  “I have some tablets at the house.” Remy helped both her and Celeste to stand. “Thanks for coming, Auntie. We won’t keep you.” He kissed her cheek.

  “You’ll come for dinner. I’ll cook for you after church.” Her stern look at Remy suggested he could use some churching himself.

  “We’ll be there,” he promised, but Eden could feel the tension radiating off him. She wasn’t sure if it was because he was still rattled by her fainting, or by what he’d let slip to his aunt.

  “See, I’m fine,” Eden reassured the children with a smile. “Maybe I’ll see you here tomorrow.”

  If she survived whatever fallout was about to happen from Remy’s blurted announcement.

  * * *

  “Will she tell anyone?” Eden asked him when they were back in his home and Remy was stirring rehydration tablets into a glass of water.

  “She doesn’t gossip, especially about someone’s health history, but she’ll have questions.” He handed her the fizzing glass and began efficiently preparing breakfast, setting fish cakes the housekeeper had left into a frying pan and chopping mango that he put in bowls with yogurt and muesli.

  She should have offered to help, but the last thing she needed was to bump elbows with him again. She sat at the dining table, where she could watch him without being too obvious about it.

  “What will you tell her?” she asked.

  “It’s more what she’ll tell me,” he said sardonically. “She’s my father’s older sister, the matriarch on his side of the family and traditional in her views. That’s a Catholic church she’s attending today. She sees it as her place to ensure I live my life right and she also misses my father. She wants to see him reflected in the next generation. That means I ought to marry and start producing little Sylvains. I respect all of that.”

  But not with you, Eden heard silently tacked onto the end of that.

  I can’t take another chance, he had said last night. He hadn’t wanted to up their risk of pregnancy.

  For a few minutes on the beach, she had quit obsessing over what had happened between them and simply enjoyed what the morning and his world had to offer. Now her thoughts were drifting back to what had almost felt like a dream, if she hadn’t awakened to see her half-empty glass of water on the counter.

  “Can I take your car after breakfast? I need to pick up a few things,” she said, purely because she needed an escape from this pressured awareness.

  “Salt tablets?” he asked.

  “And clothes. Maybe a laptop so I can work. A salon.” She could take out the clip-in extensions herself. She had planned to do it on the flight to Greece, but what she really needed was space and time away from him.

  “My sister has one she likes. I’ll make a call to get you in. I’ll take you to the boutiques she likes, too. Let me know the specs on the laptop. I’ll see what I can find while you’re getting your hair done.”

  Great. More time together.

  “Finish that,” he said sternly, as she started to set aside her glass.

  “It’s honestly not a big deal. I’ve fainted on a beach before and I still live a rich and fulfilling life.” She had also fainted in the shower once and wound up with a goose egg, but she kept that to herself.

  She broke their staring contest first, noticing in the daylight that the wall of photos had an empty hook. Weird.

  The buzz of Remy’s phone and the cynical snort he released distracted her from asking about it, though.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Hunter is asking if I still want to be his best man.”

  “He’s marrying that woman?” Amelia? Was that her name?

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Wow.” It wasn’t that shocking, but it was awfully fast. And it really blew out the last candle on the Hunter-will-save-BH&G cake.

  “Are you upset?”

  “No.” She caught him eyeing her with skepticism and realized with a crumple of her last shred of pride that she would have to tell him the rest. “I had another reason for marrying him. BH and G is in trouble. Serious trouble. He knew,” she said quickly as Remy’s eyebrows shot up. “We talked about it when we started dating. He and I worked out that expansion of his network technology using our store properties as part of our marriage agreement.”

  “RuralReach. That’s off now?”

  “My team is confident they can rescue it, but new terms will have to be worked out. It’s definitely delayed. Hunter was planning a substantial investment as well. I was okay with sharing ownership with him when I was planning to have his children. Now he’s just another business partner and I’m less comfortable allowing him so much influence in my company.” She swirled the dregs of the hydration tablet in the last of her water and knocked it back. “That will happen, anyway, if I can’t come up with another option, though.”

  “Why hasn’t your brother bailed you out?”

  “Mama refuses to let him! She has scruples against taking Kelvin’s money even though he’s dead.” She rubbed at a chip in her nail polish. “I won’t go against her wishes, though. I’m having some of our personal properties assessed, but that takes time and probably won’t raise enough capital. Not as fast as we need it, anyway.”

  “Are you asking for my help?” He brought their dishes to the table.

  “No. I’m arming you with a reason to tell your aunt why we can’t marry. I’m a money pit.”

  “What if you’re pregnant?”

  “I didn’t plan for that condom to break, Remy.”

  “I know that,” he said evenly, reaching back for the cutlery before taking his seat. “I’m simply exploring what might happen if you are.”

  “Marrying for money did not work out for me,” she noted bitterly.

  “Because you didn’t marry.”

  “Quit acting like this is something you would consider doing!”

  “I’m obliged by my position as president of Can-Carib Airlines to evaluate all opportunities that are presented to me. Hunter is a shrewd businessman. He wouldn’t tie himself to a sinking ship. There must have been benefits that went beyond using the Bellamy name to clean up Wave-Com’s reputation.” His flickering gaze across her shoulders and throat said, Besides the obvious.

  Her stomach pitched.

  “Will you send me the contract so I can review it?” he asked.

  “What are you thinking? Travel agencies within the store to book tropical vacations? I don’t see it, especially out west. Hawaii is a shorter flight and Mexico is cheaper. Also, our brand is stay-cation. Camping and outdoor sports like hiking and hockey.”

  “Martinique’s economy is too reliant on tourism. It needs to diversify. A fresh distribution market through a trusted franchise in Canada would allow the export sector to expand.”

  “Hmm.” She tucked her chin in her hand. “My father always played the buy-Canadian card. It was the way we differentiated ourselves from the big-box, lowest-price chains. Things are so global now, it’s been hard to stick to that. What kind of products would we carry?”

  “Let’s see.” He looked to the ceiling. “Spices. Hammocks. Plants,” he said with a tone of discovery. “‘Can’t get away this winter? Bring a taste of the tropics into your home with an orchid or a hibiscus.’”

  “‘Bring the garden into your home.’ That works.” She nodded. “But are you really willing to throw a pile of your own money at my company to make that happen? A lot of money?”

  His expression shuttered and he stabbed a bite of fish cake. “If you’re pregnant with my child? Absolutely.”

  If she was pregnant. Her heart twisted and she looked to her own meal.

  Back to wait and see.

  * * *

  Remy could have left Eden at the pharmacy, but he stuck around to ensure they had what she needed to increase her blood pressure. Once he was reassured she wouldn’t faint again, he left. The salon was only a block away and he had to drive across the island to the computer store.

  He brooded the entire way.

  He was glad to finally understand why Eden and Hunter had gotten as far as they had, but he was also annoyed. He was really freaking irritated that Hunter had roped her into an arranged marriage to save her business, then left her in the lurch. He was even more irritated that he cared. It was not his job to solve her romantic or business problems.

  On the other hand, if he did have a baby with her, he wanted to be prepared. While he waited for the laptop, he sent some messages, setting up a discreet team to explore opportunities with Bellamy Home and Garden and forwarding to them the copy of the marriage contract she had sent him.

  Marriage. He already knew that’s what Auntie Celeste would suggest. It was very much her belief that if you took a chance on making a life with someone, you ought to be prepared to make a life with them.

  In other circumstances, he would be.

  Remy shook off that childish wish. This was his circumstance. It wasn’t only his aversion to her brother, or the promises he had made to his father and himself, promises to love and protect and support his family. He wasn’t a perfectionist—okay, he was—but he forgave himself the mistake of kissing Eden years ago. He hadn’t known who she was then.

  He expected more honorable behavior from himself now, though. Still, he had made love to her, knowing she was off-limits, and he was her first lover. That came with its own set of expectations he hadn’t been prepared to meet.

  Last night? What the hell was that if not pure self-indulgence? He could rationalize all he wanted that they hadn’t risked pregnancy again, but what he had done was not exactly heroic.

  Eden was dangerous to him. She had hung around in his head for years and, when he was around her, he abandoned his core principles. If she wasn’t pregnant, he definitely couldn’t marry her.

  If she was... Hell, he didn’t know what he would do.

  He was still ruminating on her and self-control and what made a man a man as he visited the bakery near her salon, then set his purchases in the back seat of his open convertible.

  His masculine eye was snagged by a woman walking toward him, swinging a few shopping bags. The wide skirt of her simple blue dress stopped midcalf and a line of buttons all the way down the front broke up the block of color. Her lips were painted a shimmery pink, her eyes were behind cat’s-eye sunglasses and her hair was in shoulder-length braids.

  His whole body twisted with such craving, he had to bite back a groan. Maybe he hadn’t recognized Eden right away, but his body had. Her. It always had to be her.

  “Perfect timing.” Eden set her bags in the trunk as he popped it. “That’s everything, except I’d like to get something for your aunt.”

  “Done.” He pointed toward the back seat.

  “Merci.” She shook back her braids. The gold cuffs on the ends clicked together cheerfully. “I love that everyone speaks French here. Well, and Creole, obviously. I overheard some at the salon, but didn’t catch any of it. I’d love to learn, though. I think I love everything about this place.”

  She radiated such happiness, he wanted to taste it. He wanted to cup her face and seal his mouth to hers and drink up her bubbly bliss. He wanted to kiss the hell out of her in the middle of the street.

  He moved to open her door. “We should get home and unpackage your laptop. They always have to run a bunch of updates before they’re any use.”

  Her bright mood faded slightly, but she only nodded as she slipped into her seat. “Good advice.”

  Yeah, he was chock-full of practical ideas. Too bad he wasn’t capable of following any.

  * * *

  “Can I help with anything?” Eden offered when they arrived to find Celeste cooking on her outdoor stove.

  “No, you sit. I make this fricassee in my sleep.” Celeste waved her to the patio, where there was a table with four regular chairs and a rocker nearby. She had changed into a more casual, loose-fitting dress and had switched to a lightweight turban-style head wrap in robin’s-egg blue.

  “You’re supposed to ask the housekeeper to cook,” Remy reminded her, dropping a peck on her cheek. He reared back right before he got a wooden spoon in the kisser.

  “Flore-Aline cooks for company. I cook for family. Fetch the salad from the refrigerator. Wait.” She eyed the boxes he was carrying. “What did you bring me?”

  “Macarons.”

  “That’s why you’re my favorite nephew. Take them inside or I’ll eat them now. Tell me about yourself, Eden.” She turned her wide smile on her.

  Eden leaped at the opportunity to reassure Celeste that she and Remy were just friends. She gave her an abbreviated version of her wedding disaster, playing up the drama of Amelia arriving with a baby, and turned it into a joke at her own expense.

  “As you can imagine, my groom disappeared very unceremoniously.”

  Celeste chuckled, appreciating the pun, but shook her head, agog. “That was yesterday?”

  “Yes.” It seemed like a lifetime ago.

  Remy appeared with a round of water and gave Eden one with the orange fizz of yet another electrolyte tablet. Seriously, Celeste was going to ask her next if she had a UTI because he had become Mr. Hydration and it was going right through her.

  Eden obediently sipped and made sure he saw it before she continued.

  “Remy was kind enough to save me from the worst of the publicity by bringing me here.”

  “Oh? Are you famous?” Celeste paused in her cooking to look at her.

  “Not really. My father’s father had a number of radio shows throughout his life, so the Bellamy name is familiar in broadcasting circles. Years ago, he recruited my mother to a call-in show for gardening tips. She still does it, but it’s more a promo thing for the family’s chain of home-and-garden stores. I recently inherited the company. No, the famous one—maybe I should call him infamous?—was my groom. Actually, do you know Hunter Waverly?” Eden cocked her head. “Remy’s friend?”

  “You were marrying Hunter Waverly?” Celeste’s voice went up several octaves and she shot a look at Remy. “Would he be the father of your—” Her spoon drew a circle in the general vicinity of Eden’s middle.

  “No,” Eden and Remy said together.

  “It’s complicated, Auntie,” Remy added.

  “I’ll bet.”

  Eden bit her lips together and kept her gaze on the paving stones beneath Celeste’s feet.

  Celeste went back to her pans and soon dished up. Conversation switched to lighter topics while they enjoyed a delicious meal of conch fricassee with rice and spicy avocado balls.

  Afterward, Eden excused herself to the washroom. She heard Remy’s and Celeste’s murmured voices through the open window, but they were speaking Creole. She wished she knew what he was saying, but supposed it was best to let him make their explanations however he saw fit.

  She came out of the washroom and was confronted by a fresh wall of family photos. She immediately became lost. Why these sorts of displays fascinated her so much, she wasn’t sure, but she was always a sucker for them. Maybe it was because both her grandmothers had had them. They felt like home.