The Baby Arrangement. Lisa Dyson

around the bar. She turned her head to see who’d caught her, and her gaze collided with a pair of deep brown eyes with long, dark lashes. She blinked and slowly disengaged herself from him.

      “Are you okay?” He was probably the nicest-looking man she’d seen since arriving on Isla de la Blanca earlier in the week for a working vacation with her girlfriends slash coworkers.

      “Yes, I’m fine. And thank you for catching me. I’m sorry about that.” She straightened her bright blue romper and tossed back her long hair. “I’m not usually that clumsy.”

      Her rescuer smiled, his eyes twinkling. A neatly trimmed dark beard set off perfectly straight white teeth. “It was my fault. I wasn’t paying attention, and my legs got in your way. I’m the one who should apologize.”

      “But I shouldn’t have stepped back without looking.”

      “Let’s call it a draw,” he suggested.

      “Deal,” she said, then looked around again for her friend. “Have you seen a redhead? I’ve misplaced my friend Roxie.”

      He shook his head. “I haven’t seen her.”

      She whirled around as she checked out the nearby area again. She shielded her eyes from the glare of the setting sun off the clear azure water of the Caribbean Sea. “Did anyone see where my friend went?” she asked the men around the bar. “She’s got red hair and is wearing a dark green top with white shorts.”

      She’d been well aware that the guys hanging out at the tiki bar had been paying a lot of attention to her, whether they were actually speaking to her or merely ogling. So she decided to use that to her advantage in locating Roxie.

      “I’ll be happy to help you find her,” a sloppy drunk propped on a bamboo bar stool told her with a crooked grin before he belched and reached out to her, nearly falling off his perch.

      Bree took a step back. “That’s okay, I’m sure I—”

      “She has all the help she needs,” said an older man who appeared from nowhere, his Jimmy Buffett Parrot Head affiliation obvious from his Hawaiian shirt and straw hat with a Margaritaville button attached. “At your service, ma’am.” He stepped forward abruptly, his drink sloshing over the rim of his glass.

      “She’s fine,” her rescuer growled from behind her. He took Bree’s elbow. “She doesn’t need anyone’s help.” Before Bree could say a word, the man guided her away from the bar and maneuvered them through the growing number of people looking for fun.

      “Hey, come back here!” called several of the men left behind.

      “Wait! Where are you taking me?” Bree stumbled in the sand and nearly lost a sandal. She jerked her arm away when they were barely fifteen feet from the bar, hopping on one foot while she tried to adjust her shoe. “Stop already!”

      “I was getting you out of an uncomfortable situation,” he explained.

      “What do you mean?” She could hold her own with a bunch of drunks. “What uncomfortable situation?”

      “Those men back there,” he muttered, jerking his head in their direction. “Didn’t you see how they were looking at you?”

      “So what?”

      He continued. “You’re a woman alone with a bunch of drunk and gawking men.”

      “And?”

      “And some might get the wrong idea.”

      She ran her tongue over her bottom lip and squinted at him. “The wrong idea?”

      He shook his head. “You really have no idea what kind of signals you’re giving off, do you?”

      She was doing no such thing. “So I’m supposed to be comforted by your macho manhandling of me for my own good?” She scowled. “Dragging me away to this secluded area where you can do whatever you want to me just because I might have tugged at my ear or scratched my leg in a way that turned you on?”

      In truth, they were anything but secluded, with people barely a few feet away, but she wasn’t about to admit that she’d possibly overreacted.

      “How do I know you’re not the one I should be worried about?” she said. “I don’t even know your name.”

      “Believe me, my intentions were honorable.” He cocked his head and shrugged. “I’m sorry if I misread the situation.” He turned to leave without a backward glance.

      Good riddance, she thought as she watched him walk away. Too bad Sir Condescension thought he had to play hero, even if his overt sexiness made him extremely appealing.

      Oh, well. She didn’t need him sticking around, even if she had promised her girlfriends she’d try to be more open to meeting new people while on this working vacation. She just didn’t need a know-it-all jerk.

      Who was she kidding? At thirty-three years old, she avoided new relationships altogether. Period. She had enough people in her life, even if none of them happened to be a love interest.

      Her girlfriends might think she needed a vacation fling, but this latest encounter proved Bree had been right all along. Her time would be better spent on her company’s future, the only thing she truly cared about besides her girlfriends.

      Bree searched again for Roxie and the others, the crowd growing more raucous as the sun all but disappeared and the tiki torches were lit. A pig had been roasting on a spit since early last evening and when she inhaled the scent in the air now, her stomach growled. She had to find the girls and then get some food.

      Isla de la Blanca, off the Puerto Rican coast and named for its pure white sandy beaches, had been her coworkers’ choice of a working vacation spot, not Bree’s. Although, she had to admit, she hadn’t gotten tired of the constant seventy-eight-degree weather and sunshine. So different from January in their hometown of Arlington, Virginia, where highs of forty-five degrees were sarcastically called balmy.

      Her best girlfriends had all spent their free time this week getting massages and facials, frequenting the small shops and kiosks in the tiny village, as well as discovering the island’s vibrant nightlife. After much coercion, and since they’d accomplished their work goals, Bree had finally agreed to put her job aside and join them tonight. At least for a little while. She still had some phone calls to return and a report to read.

      “There you are!” Bree shouted, waving her hand as she made her way through already intoxicated patrons to where her girlfriends were gathered around a wicker table under the palm trees, coconut-shell cocktails with straws and paper umbrellas in their hands. Bree tilted her head at Roxie. “Why did you disappear? Didn’t you see me nearly fall on my butt?”

      They all chortled and spoke at once.

      “It’s not funny,” Bree said, but she couldn’t keep a straight face. “Listen, I didn’t bring you all down here just so I could give a bunch of drunks an eyeful!”

      Again they laughed. Bree knew when she was outnumbered, so she plopped into the single empty chair, crossed her bare legs and pretended to sulk.

      “I’m sorry, Bree,” Roxie said, appearing anything but remorseful. “I found a server to come over here so we could order our drinks, and then I got distracted. When I came back to find you, you were gone.” She handed Bree a cocktail and pointed to the plate of food they were sharing. Their hotel offered free appetizers during happy hour and the girls had taken advantage.

      “What happened anyway, Bree?” Showing her usual empathy, Hannah’s voice was filled with concern. “Are you okay?”

      Bree shook her head and reached for a cheese cube. “Yes, I’m fine. I just tripped and fell into some guy’s waiting arms. Typical macho guy who thinks every woman is a damsel in distress.”

      Hannah’s mouth formed an O and her dark brown doe eyes nearly popped out of her head. “Wow! Was he cute?”

      “Invite