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“Aren’t you the king of charm,” she quipped. He was right, of course. But that kernel of a wild idea died flat. There was no way she could ask Rhett to play a role as herboyfriend or fiancé while Luca was here. She might have his respect, but not his affection.

It was silly to think of him helping her that way and a thousand times more embarrassing to voice such an inane idea. She had to get out of here before she humiliated herself.

“We should go. I need to get back.” Her staff deserved a head’s up about another potential groom. “Thank you for checking on me.” She walked closer to the steps spanning the dunes.

“Trina.” He reached out.

Flinching away, she stumbled backward, bracing for the hard landing and the humiliation that would surely follow.

But she didn’t land hard in the sand. Somehow, Rhett caught her and she found herself steady and snug against the heat of his chest. She inhaled the scent of salty ocean air layered over the clean, masculine scent of his skin. Potent, enticing, and gone too quickly. As soon as she was steady—a miracle considering her knocking knees—he released her, hands loose at his sides.

The scowl on his face now sent a shiver down her spine. “What happened? Give me a name.”

She didn’t recognize the rough timber of his voice. This was not a side of Rhett she’d ever seen before. “Wh-what are you talking about?” she stammered under his hard glare. “Don’t be silly.”

“Was it Bachelor One or Bachelor Two?” His gaze narrowed. “One,” he declared. “You said Two prefers men.”

“Stop this.” The incident that left her scarred wasn’t even in this decade. “Why do you think it was anyone? I’m just in a mood. You said so yourself.” She scrambled up the steps and across the walkway, rushing for the street.

His longer stride closed the distance. “My car is this way.”

So much for hoping he’d forget her agreement to let him drive her back.

He opened the passenger door for her and paused until she lifted her gaze to his. “Let me help you.” He held his ground, keeping the door open without crowding her.

She gave him bonus points for restraint. “There’s no dreadful problem. I’m clumsy and edgy, that’s all.”

“That narrows it down to Bachelor Number Three. The man you want to avoid.”

“Please, get in the car.”

He relented, closing the door gently and rounding the hood. When he was situated in the driver’s seat, she said, “You need to stop worrying. I don’t need a hero, Rhett.” And if she did, she wouldn’t choose a man who excited her the way he did.

She preferred unattainable men. Guys so far out of her league or so far removed from her current geography that she couldn’t get scared.

That was her ideal type. Over the last few months, Harper had been trying to pin down the characteristics Trina found most attractive in a man. As if having a definition would somehow force her parents to back off. Unattainable was top of the list. She didn’t want to go out with anyone for more than a couple dates. Didn’t want to get close emotionally knowing she couldn’t reciprocate physically.

She had no trouble with innocent, friendly banter or flirting. She could be charming. Those skills were part of the job she adored. For short stints, she could even enjoy herself and be the life of the party. But one-on-one intimacy? Not in her wheelhouse. She was already a disappointment to her parents. There was no reason to involve innocent and unwitting good boys from Italy.

But after one unexpectedly pleasant conversation, Rhett already suspected the truth, demanding names and puffing up like he would take action inher defense.

“Okay, no heroics,” he allowed. “You could talk to me anyway.”

“We’re not friends,” she stated. Although telling him wouldn’t change anything. Discussing that incident outside of her therapist’s office would be the worst. She’d rather walk across a bed of nails.

“We should probably try. That’s the main reason I’ve been visiting so often.”

Her heart kicked. “For Harper,” she realized. He hadn’t been coming up to see her.

“Yes.” He gave a mighty sigh. “Tell me what’s going on. Please,” he added a beat too late.

“Haven’t I painted a clear picture? My parents are being jerks. That’s the beginning, middle, and end of the story.”

“I’d like to help,” he said, slowing to make the turn into the staff parking area near the Inn.

She was about to decline—politely—when her cell phone chimed with another text message. If it was her mother… But this message was from Jacob, one of her assistants. He regularly handled the registration desk overnight.

“Oh, God.” Her stomach twisted into a knot and she fumbled with the door handle, desperate to get out in case she got sick.