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“No,” she said firmly, finding her voice. “I’m a grown woman. I have nothing to be afraid of.”

“I beg to differ. Over the past year, I’ve started boxing at Max’s gym. A local place,” he explained before she could ask. “Boxing is a great workout. A bunch of Guardian Agency security folks train there too. They’ve shared plenty of stories that contradict your theory.”

“How… unpleasant,” she decided. Of course she knew the world was dangerous, but she wouldn’t be a victim again.

“Trina.” He stepped closer.

She backpedaled before she realized what she’d done. “Let it go, Rhett.”

“Let me help you.”

He couldn’t—short of marrying her before this next prospect showed up. “Let it go,” she repeated. Her parents were set on this for her. They wouldn’t be easily stopped until they had their way. Though their outlandish and pushy efforts annoyed, she’d been sure she could tolerate the nonsense and graciously defer any decisions until she found a way to make them listen.

But Luca Gallo? She shivered. She hadn’t dreamed they’dsendhim. How had he even wormed his way onto their potential-groom radar?

“I’m fine,” she fibbed. “Good night.” She turned away from the moon and gazed up to the velvet darkness of the stars twinkling above the trees on the western side of the island. Better that than dwelling on the sexy shape of Rhett’s chiseled profile.

“Did you walk all this way?”

“I did. It’s not so far.” He made a ten minute walk sound insurmountable. “And the weather’s clear.”

“It’s dark,” he countered. “I’ll drive you back.”

She didn’t see much point in arguing. “Would that make you feel better?”

“Yes.”

Instead of heading down the beach toward the access closest to the Inn, she aimed for the access across from the Pelican. “Tell me, are there any American legends about finding Mr. Right under a pink moon?”

He snorted. There was no misinterpreting that sound. She hadn’t really expected him to be informed or enthused about romantic myths. “I’m only teasing.”

“Do you want to get married, Trina?”

The words struck her wrong. The syllables bunching up and then stretching out. He couldn’t mean… “Is that a proposal, Mr. Ellington?”

His jaw dropped. “No, I mean…” he tipped his head. “No. But not because of you. It’s me.”

“Goodness.” She forced a laugh. “You’re giving me the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ talk and we haven’t even gone out a single time. That must be a new record.” Trina had never actually been on the receiving end of that particular break-up conversation. Mainly because she didn’t go out with anyone long enough for it to qualify as a relationship.

The soft, dry sand shifted under her feet, an echo of hergeneral unease with her predicament. As she mulled what Rhett had said, ignoring what he meant, a wild idea began to take root. Marriage was an excellent option. If she was married, her parents couldn’t randomly interfere anymore. Couldn’t shove more arrogant, disinterested men at her. No more startling text messages about another potential groom arriving to ruin a fun evening.

If she married, they’d either accept her choice of husband or not, but she could stop living with this obnoxious cloud hanging over her head.

Of course, there was no sign of a willing groom nearby. Did she need a real groom or would a stand-in be enough of a deterrent? She had to do something, because Bachelor Number Three would be here in a few days. And nothing filled her heart with more dread than that man.

It hadn’t always been that way. Their families had been close and once upon a time she’d considered Luca a good friend. Her parents had always considered him the consummate example of a self-made man. Despite the tragic deaths of his parents, he’d worked his way through university, graduated with honors, and immediately landed a prestigious position. Since then, he continued to impress important people as he climbed the corporate ladder, gaining more influence with every upward move.

Though she applauded his accomplishments, Trina suspected she was the only person in the world who didn’t admire him.

He represented every bad decision in her past. If she’d made different choices—smarter choices—he wouldn’t even be on the short list of ideal sons-in-law. Since her falling-out with him, she’d chosen her battles poorly. Tacitly agreeing with the wealth of praise that always accompanied the mention of his name. Keeping the pain he’d inflicted locked down, out of sight, where it only hurther.

Rhett’s non-proposal aside, maybe he could help her devise a cover story and a reason to be out of town until Luca gave up and went back to Italy. Would he be open to an impromptu cross-training exercise like the ones they completed in school?

She stopped a few paces from the boardwalk so they wouldn’t be overheard. “I’ve been thinking of taking some time off. Maybe enrolling in a refresher course of some kind,” she began.

“Wouldn’t you need to clear something like that with the board?”

“I have a generous leave package and an excellent staff.”