"And you shouldn't have needed to hold yourself back. It's why we're single. Maybe that's a good thing," he said, his gaze sliding over her legs where the sarong had slid open.
"Better to be single than with the wrong person." She echoed what Rosie had said minutes earlier.
He turned, stretched a leg in her direction over the tops of the two stools separating them, and perched his beer on his thigh. His gaze roamed over her, too, with an equal amount of curiosity and desire.
"So are you anti-man or just anti-love? Don't let one jerk ruin the chances for the rest of us." With his smile came the dangerous dimples.
"Are you flirting with me?" The idea intrigued her. She looked into his blue eyes, felt the warmth of alcohol rushing through her veins, and swayed forward on her stool.
"I don't flirt. I socialize."
"Liar. I think you've been down here flirting for a week," she said, her words more slurred than she'd like as she tried to channel the sophisticated woman she pretended to be back home. She propped her elbow on the counter, stretched her legs next to his, crossed her ankles, and stared into his eyes. "I think this is what you do...pick up drunk women in the bar and give them treasures you find while free-diving."
Whatever Rosie put in that drink gave her courage.
His knuckles skimmed across her ankle. "You'd be wrong, way off the mark."
Awareness shivered across her skin with the barely-there caress. She shifted on the stool, uncomfortable under his scrutiny, certain he knew the affect he had on her. Losing control wasn't her style, neither was flirting with strangers; yet she had an overwhelming desire to knock the stools over, peel his swim trunks down, crawl onto his lap, and screw him against the bar.
She pressed her hand to her forehead. Maybe she was sick. Lust wasn't in her vocabulary. At age thirty-one, she'd never had a one-night stand. There were simply things she didn't do...and suddenly she wanted to do all of them with Luke the Kayaker.
"I'd better take a nap," she muttered more to herself than him.
"You don't want to go yet."
"It's not a question of want, but of necessity. I think I need a nap." She grinned against the rim of the glass and met his gaze. Damn, the man had gorgeous eyes. "Why does Rosie say you're anti-woman?"
"Oh, I'm not anti-woman at all, not by any stretch of the imagination. She's confused because my brothers like to tease me about being the only single one and they kept trying to fix me up while they were here. They failed." He shrugged, not looking away from her. "They're gone now, though."
She bit her lower lip and indulged in gazing over the muscles of his chest barely concealed by the damp shirt. It would be easy to keep drinking and let the attraction get the best of her.
His fingers traced lazy circles against the top of her foot. "Let's meet back here in an hour and go to dinner. I'll show you the town of San Pedro. I know all the best places."
"You work fast."
"You're the one who brought up exes before even saying hello."
"Rosie did, not me." She watched his fingers make lazy circles on her skin.
"C'mon...you're alone, I'm alone, what's the harm in having dinner together? We can do whatever we want to do when we want to do it with whomever we choose, right?"
"Wild and free, that's us," she said.
She slid a fingertip over the rim of her glass without looking away. Tempting proposition. Her options were staying here, dining alone, probably getting sick from drinking too much and definitely over-thinking every damn thing...or she could go out with Mr. Sexy Eyes and Dimples and have some fun.
"One condition." She dared touch his foot as he touched hers, liked seeing his eyes narrow in response, enjoyed watching him swallow hard. "I'm a little drunk, I admit that, and probably will stay that way for the next week. I don't know you, and you don't know me. No need to share our deepest and darkest secrets. No last names, no following each other's Instagram, no strings or expectations."
"It's only dinner and a town tour." His smile widened, showing off his dimples again. "Alyssa Anonymous...I like it. Deal. Any other stipulations for this date?"
Date. Her smile faltered but caution kept her in the stool with her fingers caressing his ankle. "Fun, that's it. Easy, uncomplicated fun."
He laughed and squeezed her foot. "I can handle that. Fun, no last names, just two people enjoying the island and a lot of rum."
She liked looking at him, not only because of those blue eyes and dimples. With his hair stiff from saltwater and skin flushed from the sun, he oozed ease and approachability.
"I'd like to enjoy more than that," she whispered, her filter long gone.
His eyes darkened to a deep blue. "I get it...your ex is getting married in four days so you're on a mission, aren't you?"
"He has nothing to do with this." She looked away from him, annoyed that he'd brought up a sore subject. Crash. Burn. Damn.
"I'm happy to be part of your mission, don't misunderstand. New Year's Eve is a big deal for most people, new beginnings, clean slate, and all of that."
"Nevermind. I lost my head for a minute. My offer is off the table." She moved her leg away from his touch, a confusing storm of emotions whirling through her mind. "Forget it."
"No way I'm forgetting it." He motioned to Rosie for another beer. "Don't worry. I'm doing the same thing, reevaluating things. It's what people do this time of year. I'm going to be thirty-five in a few months and...Anyway, all I meant to say is that a new year pushes people to try new things." He sighed. "I should stop talking. Can we go back to where we were flirting a few minutes ago? I liked that part."
She smiled without looking at him. "Are you suggesting that we be each other's new thing to try for the New Year?"
He laughed. "That sounds so...I can't find the word."
"Shallow?"
"Sometimes shallow is a relief."
She looked him in the eye and sighed. Yeah, all the things she thought about doing with him would definitely relieve tension and distract her from the complications of home.
"Luke! We thought we'd lost you," a brunette who looked like she'd stepped out of Victoria's Secret active wear section appeared out of nowhere. She slipped her arm around Luke's shoulders in a light hug before claiming the stool next to him.
"Why would you be looking for me?" His gaze snapped to Alyssa's.
She dropped her hand from his foot and finished her drink. So much for a brief indulgence in fantasy. Had she actually just asked a total stranger for a vacation hook up? My God. She'd lost her mind somewhere between Denver and Belize, no question about it. She finished her drink and met Rosie's gaze.
"Yo, Luke. We're all headed up to Captain Morgan's. Wanna come?" A man who looked like one of the divers from the dock slapped him on the back.
Before she knew what was happening, the quiet bar had become a meeting place of the tanned and toned. She didn't like crowds, had never been the social butterfly type. The bravery of seconds ago evaporated in the ocean breeze.
"How'd the kayaking go?" The model-type touched her fingers to the back of Luke's hand, her smile lazy and confidant.
"It was good." He moved onto the stool next to Alyssa's and turned his back on the brunette. "So does an hour work for you or do you need more time?"
She looked at him, present moment fighting for dominance over past history. Her gaze slid to the other woman before she answered, "Looks like you have other options."
"Not from where I'm sitting."
Cynicism pierced the fantasy. "I need a lot more time, actually. I just didn't realize it until now."
"Maybe time isn't what you need at all." He leaned close, his eyes gleaming with a challenge.
She swayed toward him as if pulled by an invisible string. It would be easy to give in, to kiss him, to indulge in impulse.
"I almost forgot." The brunette dropped a shirt onto the counter in front of him. "You left this last night."
He sighed and looked over his shoulder at the woman. "Thank
s, Savannah."
"I'm in Cabana 36, charge it, okay?" she muttered to Rosie before sliding off the stool and heading toward her room for a much-needed cold shower and reality check.
She wasn't the kind of woman who had meaningless flings with a playboy. She was Alyssa McNeil, an assistant curator at the Denver Museum of Art. She had a one-bedroom condo and a cat named Carl. She'd turned thirty-one last week and her ex-fiancé would be getting married in four days to someone else. She wasn't the kind of woman a man chose over a supermodel in training. Scott had called her repressed and cold...and he'd been right. That was reality. No amount of Rosie's special concoction could change that.
* * *
Regret dampened his mood as he watched Alyssa walk away without looking back. He'd enjoyed talking to her, felt like she'd been the most authentic woman he'd met in a long time. Of course, maybe her openness had more to do with Rosie's specialty drinks than her true nature, but he felt compelled to know more.
"So are you coming with us?" Savannah slid her fingers down his arm.
"I've got other plans." He moved his arm away and looked at the discarded shirt crumpled on the counter. He'd left it here at the bar where his family had been celebrating their last night at the resort. Savannah and her entourage had joined them and the night had been rowdy but non-sexual, unlike what the shirt implied. He rubbed his hand across his forehead, counted silently to ten, and wondered if his luck would ever change. He'd finally met someone interesting and along comes Savannah to derail any forward momentum.
Women like Savannah were a dime a dozen in his world--beautiful in an almost fabricated way and used to getting exactly what they wanted. The fact that she'd been unable to 'get' him obviously irked her. She'd been relentless for days now.
He grabbed the shirt, suddenly extremely irritated by how the afternoon had deteriorated.
"C'mon, Luke. Captain Morgan's is having a beach barbecue, an all you can eat buffet. Come with us. We're not leaving for another hour or so." Bill, one of the divers traveling with Savannah, slapped him on the shoulder.
He loved his family, but he'd been thrilled when they'd left this morning so he'd have time to himself. The last thing he wanted was to be engulfed in another group. He looked toward the direction where Alyssa had walked. Cabana 36, she'd said to Rosie. He had every intention of keeping their date, not that he wanted to come off as a stalker. He'd felt a connection with her and, if he had to choose between another rowdy night with a group of guys or a night alone with a sexy woman whose smile had grabbed him from the first moment, he'd choose the latter.
Savannah whispered against his ear, "What does a girl need to do to get your attention?"
He smiled and looked her in the eye. His brothers had drooled over the tall brunette and had tried to push them together. "I doubt getting attention is a problem for you."
"Apparently, it is." She leaned toward him. "Be my date at the bonfire on New Year's Eve. I don't want to be the only one who doesn't have someone to kiss."
"I'm sure that won't be an issue." He glanced at the men from her diving club that surrounded them. He'd seen one in particular doting on her since she'd arrived. It always amazed him how people couldn't see what was directly under their nose.
"Elusive is sexy." She leaned back against the counter and pushed her chest out. "You're a challenge, Luke."
"Yeah, well, you've got me all wrong. The woman I've been waiting for arrived this morning." He met Rosie's gaze and winked. "Back me up on this, Rosie."
"Oh, ya, Alyssa checked in a few hours ago. Nice lady, ya don't want to be mess'n with her, though. She struck me as a bit territorial." Rosie took his empty glass, her eyes narrowed at Savannah. "Don't be greedy, girl. You're here with a pack of men."
"Territorial. Right. That's Alyssa." It had been years since a woman had been territorial over him, but he'd roll with the story.
"The blonde?" Savannah frowned. "Why'd she leave then?"
"Maybe she didn't see any reason to be threatened. You all have fun tonight," he said to Bill and the collective group around them. "I'll see you around."
He laughed, grabbed his dry-bag and the abandoned box Alyssa had left on the counter, and pushed away from the bar. Once behind closed doors, he stripped from the salty-damp clothes. He couldn't stop smiling. Alyssa's proposition about anonymity intrigued him more than anything had in a long time.
Life had been a complicated mess for as long as he could remember. His career prevented most women from giving him a chance at a relationship. As soon as they heard the words 'divorce attorney', they fled in the opposite direction. Or they'd do the opposite and see dollar signs. He'd fallen into family law because of his parents' ugly divorce when he'd been a teen. As the oldest, he'd done what he could to shelter his younger brothers, but it had cost him the idealism of youth. As an attorney, he did his best to always put the children involved at the forefront of all dealings, but sometimes his clients couldn't get beyond their hatred for someone they'd once loved. Even now he couldn't understand how a relationship could sink so low...and he truly didn't want to find out. His sister-in-laws accused him of being a commitment-phobe, and maybe he was. However, the idea of having an uncomplicated affair with a sexy blonde with a dancer's body who had no interest in knowing about his career or intentions for anything long-term sounded ideal.
Even a die-hard bachelor could appreciate the need for companionship.
* * *
Chapter Two
Bringing her engagement ring here had been an impulsive decision. Then again...she felt like she was dancing on the precipice of insanity with all of the spontaneous choices she'd been making lately. Had she really propositioned a stranger to hook up with her for seven days of anonymous sex? For what? So she'd feel empowered by seducing a stranger? So she'd feel wanted?
I guess even an educated woman can act like an idiot.
She collapsed backward onto the bed and studied the ring Scott had given her years ago. The small diamond gleamed on a simple band of gold. Just out of graduate school and living in a small apartment in downtown Denver, it had been all they could afford and had made her incredibly happy at the time.
Fresh tears filled her eyes for all the wasted years spent living a lie. She'd never forget the day Scott had admitted that he hadn't been faithful to her. Ever. He'd been cheating on her since day one. He'd said with little remorse that he hadn't even been faithful to her when they'd visited her family in New Mexico. He hadn't been able to go one full week without cheating. She'd gotten HIV tested almost compulsively since their breakup, worried that he'd not only screwed every woman in sight but that he'd screwed up her life, too. But he hadn't...he'd left her with nothing but a ring and an apartment full of old furniture.
She'd donated the furniture, bought a condominium within walking distance to the museum, adopted a cat, and booked a trip to Belize. But the ring she'd kept even though it meant nothing. She'd brought it down here with grand ideas of tossing it into the ocean as a sort of symbolic closure.
Her thoughts drifted to Luke. She'd admired how he'd laughed after tipping in the kayak, bantered easily with Rosie, smiled at her as if he'd known her for years, and had obviously made friends with the scuba divers who acted like he was a part of their group. He had a way about him, a magnetic pull. She grinned at the way his shirt had molded to his body. Yeah, even now as the rum haze wore off she wanted to strip him naked and explore that body. Laughing at her thoughts, she tossed the ring onto the pillow and closed her eyes.
The knock on her cabana door surprised her. Probably Rosie. Had she signed the bar receipt? She couldn't remember.
Showered and dressed in a loose yellow sundress, she walked barefoot toward the persistent knocking. She yanked the door open and stared. There he was, dressed in dry blue t-shirt, khaki shorts, and flip-flops. He tilted his head a bit to the side as he assessed her, his grin contagious as he held up the forgotten metal box.
"You forgot your treasure at the bar. I was a l
ittle hurt. I risked my life for this."
She rocked back on her heels, struck by how the blue of his shirt emphasized his eyes. "I thought you were going out with your friends."
"They're not my friends. I met them the other night, a diving club from Dallas or somewhere like that. We had a good time last night with my family at the bar that ended up with us all jumping in the pool fully clothed. I guess I left my shirt behind, but that's it." His shrug pulled the shirt tight over his shoulders. "We had a deal, didn't we?"
Every fantasy she'd ever had came to life in her mind. Sex on the beach, against a palm tree, on the deck, in the king-sized bed behind her...every image created a slow burn deep in her gut.
"Scared? I'm harmless, I swear. Rosie can vouch for me, she's known me for seven days now, that's the equivalent of a lifetime on this small island."
"Said the serial killer right before he pulled a knife."
"I know you want to." His voice had lowered to a seductive purr. "Come with me. Have some fun. Live a little."
She hadn't anticipated him showing up, not with the leggy brunette hanging all over him. She already had her e-reader prepped for a night of hanging out in the hammock listening to waves lap against shore. She gripped the frame of the door and stared.
"Dinner and a town tour. Simple," he said even as his gaze skimmed over her neck to her cleavage.
"Why do you want to keep our deal?" she asked.
His gaze snapped back to hers. "You're the most interesting thing that's happened to me in a long time. I want more of that. Simple."
"I'm not..." she'd almost said she wasn't brave, that she'd been dizzy from rum and travel, but the look in his eyes stopped her. "What's the matter?"
"Why do you think something's the matter?"
She squinted. Guilt shadowed his eyes, but there was something else there, too. "Did I miss something after I left?"
"I may have led people to believe you were my girlfriend." He winced without breaking eye contact. "Don't slam the door in my face."