“I’d say pretty good.”
“So, what happens now? What does this mean?” I nod to our linked hands.
Foss winks at me. “We fly off into the sunset.”
“That’s a tad overly romantic.” I giggle, overwhelmed.
“Okay,” he says. “We can start with a proper date.”
“I like the sound of that.”
He leans closer. “Yeah?”
“A lot.” Then a thought occurs to me, and I squint at him. “What happened to Sutton?”
“Ah, funny story. I saw her pass by and did a double take. She pointed me in your direction.”
“So, she’s spending time with Ethan and Josh again?”
“Yeah, she didn’t seem to mind switching seats.”
“I’m sure they’re far better company than me.”
“No way.”
“I was being a sad sap.”
“And now?”
I snuggle into his waiting embrace. “Couldn’t be better.”
About the Author
Harloe Rae is a bestselling author. Her passion for writing and reading has taken on a whole new meaning. Each day is an unforgettable adventure.
* * *
Harloe is a Minnesota gal with a serious addiction to romance. She’s always chasing an epic happily ever after. When she’s not buried in the writing cave, Harloe can be found hanging with her hubby and son. If the weather permits, she loves being lakeside or out in the country with her horses.
* * *
Harloe is the author of Redefining Us, Forget You Not, Watch Me Follow, GENT, MISS, and LASS. These titles are all available for purchase.
* * *
Find all the latest on her site www.harloe-rae.blog
Subscribe to her newsletter at http://bit.ly/HarloesList
Join her reader group, Harloe’s Hotties, at http://www.facebook.com/harloehotties
* * *
Follow her on:
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Want to read more from Harloe? Turn the page to learn about her other novels!
Also by Harloe Rae
Gent
Lass
Miss
Watch Me Follow
Redefining Us
Forget You Not
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Logan Chance
* * *
‘Legend has it that when the gods were still mortals there existed a love so deep, so true, that it created the sun and the moon. It also created all the stars that shine from above.’
* * *
A big pile of sacred rubble is a great place to lurk. I pretend I’m taking pictures of the Ixchel ruins, on the island of Cozumel, but instead I snap picture after picture of the gorgeous blonde listening intently to the tour guide explain how Ixchel’s beauty charmed dozens of Mayan men. I’m sure Ixchel was charming, but I couldn’t care less about that folklore. What I care about is wearing a saucy pink sundress that flutters in the breeze, teasing me.
“Women would journey twice a year to make offerings to the goddess of fertility,” the tour guide drones on, leading us to the temple ruins. “She was also the goddess of the moon and rainbow.”
I follow along with the tour group, keeping my distance from the goddess near the front of the pack and chuckle when I hear her say to the tour guide, ‘Wow, she was very busy.’
Consumed, I hang back in the shadows, taking picture after picture of her beauty. She looks forlorn staring at what’s left of the shrine to Ixchel. When she moves away, she loses her footing, stumbling over a deteriorating step, and a scarlet trail of blood seeps from her knee.
Immediately, I move in to help. My intentions are not noble; I came to this island for one reason, and one reason only—her.
* * *
Kyla
* * *
Bad decisions always seem like a good idea. Cozumel in the Spring probably wasn’t the best choice for a woman like me. Noel’s idea for me to come to a place like this just goes to show your therapist doesn’t always know best. I mean, looking around, it’s nothing but a bunch of college kids on spring break. There’s rock hard abs in every direction, and string bikinis too.
Liquor of every variety is the drink of choice around here. It doesn’t matter the flavor or taste, because the name of the game is how quickly you can consume your weight in alcohol in the shortest amount of time possible.
Crazy, really. Or maybe I am, for agreeing to this.
Maybe I’m in the middle of my mid-life crisis. Well, I’m only thirty, so hopefully I live long past sixty. Maybe it’s a mid mid-life crisis. Actually... it’s a divorce crisis. Never thought I’d say that. It’s tragic how quickly things can fall apart. How the stress of miscarriage after miscarriage can weigh so heavy on something you thought was solid until it’s suddenly fractured. But this vacation is just what the doctor ordered—a break from watching your world crumble to bits.
An oversized man-child, the size of a linebacker, barrels toward me as I step into the lobby of the Mirage.
“Sorry,” he apologizes as he passes, slowing down to give me a once over.
I make a mental note to call Noel and tell her this place was definitely the wrong choice.
Ignoring the man-child, I slide my Chanel shades on top of my head and cross the marble floor toward the hotel lounge. I’ve been here a mere two hours, and already the bar is looking like the place I’ll be spending most of my time. The tropical lounge is like being outside, without being outside—potted baby palms, bamboo everything, view of the beach, and colorful flowers draped along the bar.
“Pina Colada, please,” I request from the bartender, sliding onto a wicker-backed stool.
“Make that two,” a masculine voice orders from behind my shoulder before taking a seat right next to me. Ocean-colored eyes glance over at me. “How’s the knee?”
“Just a scratch,” I answer, unable to look away from the raven-haired man—definitely a man, not a boy— and his slow smile.
Finally, I tear my eyes from his ruggedly handsome face and watch the bartender pour the ingredients into the blender.
“Paradise, right?”
My attention leaves the blender, and I glance over at him. “Yeah, that’s what they say.”
“You don’t agree? Look around.” He gives a head nod toward the panoramic windows. “It’s beautiful here.”
“I haven’t seen much besides the ruins.”
“Trust me, you’ll love it here.” He plays with the coaster in front of him, spinning it in his hands as we wait for our drinks.
“Trust you? I don’t even know you.”
He smiles wide. “Well that can change.”
I eye him for a second. “When in Rome, right?”
“That’s what they say.” He stops spinning the coaster. “You here alone?”
“Yes.”
He assesses and undresses me from head to toe. “Good.”
I swivel in my barstool to face him, just as the bartender hands us our blended drinks. “Why is that good?” I ask, taking a big sip and wincing when the brain freeze sets in.
“You have to be careful of brain freeze,” the man says with a grin.
“I know.” I rub my temple. “Are you here alone?”
“I’m not now,” he says with a smile, holding out his hand for me to shake. “Mason.”
“Kyla,” I tell him, while our hands embrace.
Kyla,”
he repeats. His husky voice is like a flint, causing all kinds of sparks to ignite. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too, Mason,” I say, letting his name roll off my tongue.
“How long you here for?”
“A few days, you?”
He takes a sip of his drink. “Same.”
I glance out at the jewel tone water. In Miami, the Atlantic Ocean is a dark blue. Here, it’s a bright aquamarine color, and I can’t stop staring at it. I bring my attention back to him. “What do you plan on doing here?”
He runs his eyes over my body once again. “That depends…”
“On?”
“You.”
I blush. Not really sure what to say to that.
He shifts in his seat to face me. “I have an idea,” he starts, “since I’m here alone…”
I gaze at his lips, watching him say the words.
“...and you’re here alone.” He moves closer. “Have dinner with me.”
I chew on my bottom lip. That frayed thread holding back my emotions snaps inside me, and I decide to live life with reckless abandon, or stupidity. “Ok,” I agree.
We finish our drinks, and before leaving him at the bar, I brazenly tell him I’ll knock on his door in an hour.
Back in my hotel room, I shower and then dress in the slinky coral cocktail dress and nude heels I brought to wear for the first night. Drowned memories of wearing this dress at Colin’s company party, and how he couldn’t get it off fast enough when we returned home, rise to the surface, gasping for life. None of that, I remind myself, dabbing on some gloss.
I leave my blonde hair in soft waves, grab my clutch, and head toward what might be a mistake.
A crowd of people, smelling like suntan lotion and surf, swarm the elevator when I get off on the sixth floor. A tow-headed little girl darts by me and her mom chastises her before her dad swoops her up into his arms. My chest burns watching what I can’t seem to have as I follow the numbers down the gold-carpeted hallway to room six-fourteen.
I knock, and when the door opens everything is forgotten when I’m assaulted by skin. Lots of golden, lean-muscled skin in a white towel wrapped low on his hips.
“Hey,” Mason greets me.
“I, uh, take it you’re going casual?”
A few water droplets trail slowly down his muscle-clad pecs. “Sorry, I’ll just be a minute.” He moves aside. “Come in.”
I’d have to be an idiot not to see the carnal look in his eyes as his gaze roams lazily down my body, making me feel like he just removed what I’m wearing. Not going to lie, I do the same to him before stepping inside to a large suite identical to mine with the endless ocean crashing outside the wall of glass.
“Enjoy the view,” he says with a slight smirk, before heading toward the bathroom.
And the view is spectacular. Broad shoulders and lean muscles lead down to a perfectly curved ass attached to long legs.
Trying not to gawk at him, I study the photos of palm trees and wicker rockers on porches on the walls. Not near as interesting as him. He’s sexy fresh out of the shower. I always liked Colin right out of the shower. It’s weird, I know, but there’s just something about heated skin, wet hair, and overall cleanliness that does something inside my chest. I’d forgotten how much of an aphrodisiac it was until now. Forgotten how much I haven’t felt, until now.
He closes the door, and I suck in a deep breath.
I can do this. Then again, maybe not.
His sex appeal is on full display when he exits the bathroom in black slacks and a pristine white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up just enough to expose the arm porn. He pockets his wallet and key card and then we head up to the resort’s expensive restaurant, located atop the hotel, and grab an intimate table with a view of the water.
“It’s beautiful here,” I say to him, looking out at the pink-painted sky and the waves lapping along the shore.
“Yes, it his,” he replies, not taking his eyes off of me.
This is so not me. I’d never meet a stranger under these circumstances and throw caution to the wind. Divorce will make you do crazy things though.
Normally, I wake up, clean, sequester myself in my office at home to work on websites I design, cook dinner, and that’s about the extent of my day.
On the weekends, Colin and I used to enjoy each other’s company. We used to go out for dinner and dancing, and take long walks in the park near our home. We couldn’t get enough of each other. Those days are long gone now.
I’m pretending none of that matters; to hell with it. I vow to myself not to question anything for the next few days, and just go with the flow. I am water. Right before I left, Noel instructed me not to think about my husband and what used to be while on my trip. So, I push thoughts, memories, and everything from my past deep down and try to enjoy the moment here with Mason, the sexy stranger before me.
We chat for a while, nothing but superficial things, and it’s easy. It’s fun pretending I’m someone I’m not. His attention has been solely on me, and I have to say I’m loving every bit of it. So much, I drink one too many frozen cocktails with fruity names.
“Tell me why someone as beautiful as you is here alone?”
“I’m going through a divorce.”
He blinks. “Ouch.”
I was probably supposed to say something lighter and flirtatious, but the alcohol has loosened my tongue. I nod, taking one more sip of my fruity concoction. “My therapist thought I should come here.”
He doesn’t smile. “Therapist, huh?”
I wave a hand. “I’m not crazy, promise.”
Now his smile breaks loose. “I didn’t think you were. Just maybe lost?”
I stir the melting drink into a mini whirlpool. “I’m very lost. I think.” Another sip. “What about you?”
He rubs the stubble on his chin. “I’m not lost. I’m right where I need to be.”
He’s better at this than I am. The wind picks up, skating through my hair, making my insides tense with longing. My nipples harden underneath the thin lacy material of my dress. “And where’s that?”
He pays the bill, and grabs my hand. It feels good to have my hand held again. “No telling. I’ll show you.”
He leads me to the elevator and caution swells inside me, bubbling to the surface. Should I really be doing this?
The lift dings, and the doors slide open.
“After you,” his deep voice says.
How can anyone sound that sexy?
It’s been so long since I’ve been aroused just by a deep voice and a smile. But, it’s happening. I step into the elevator, moving away from him to stand in the corner.
“I don’t bite,” he says with a smile that could crumble nations.
“Unless I want you to?” I ask, seeing if he was going to say the lamest, most cliche, comeback.
He holds up both hands. “Hey, you said it. Not me.”
I giggle. He’s cute.
Then, he sucks all the air out of the elevator when he steps closer to me. I can’t breathe. I don’t think I even want to breathe anymore, I just want him to keep getting closer.
The doors close, and he hits a button. I don’t even know which button, nor do I care, because I’m too focused on the intensity in his baby blues.
Best eye color award goes to him.
Best heart attack moment as well when he rests his palm against the wall next to my head, and my heart stops beating. Literally. You may think I’m speaking figuratively, but literally, my heart skips a beat. Maybe it’s a palpitation brought on by him.
Then his other arm goes up, boxing me in. He leans in, his nose almost touching mine. “Do you want me to bite, Kyla?”
I swallow.
“Uhh…” is all that comes out of my mouth because his close proximity has rendered me virtually speechless.
He steps back, dropping his arms as if he wasn’t under the same spell of attraction. “It’s settled. There will be biting.”
The el
evator doors swoosh open, and Mason holds out his hand for me to take.
And I do.
* * *
Mason
* * *
I’m not going to fuck her just yet. It takes every ounce of restraint I have not to take her back to the room. But that’s not the plan. There’s a bigger goal here, and I need to be patient.
“I’ve never done this sort of thing,” she informs me as we step from the elevator into the lobby of the resort.
“What sort of thing?” I ask for clarification.
“A fling.”
“A what?”
Her light eyes glance up at me as we walk out onto the main street of Cozumel. “You heard me. This is like a lesson in Flingology. Rule number one, no names.” Her brow furrows as we walk. “I forget the other rules.”
“Flingology, huh? Is that a book?” I ask, raising a brow.
“Just something I read somewhere.”
“Ah.” I glance around, taking in the lights of Cozumel. “Maybe we make our own rules?”
She bats her thick eyelashes. “Maybe. How about no personal information?”
“I like that rule.” I want to kiss her right now, bad.
“Hm, let me think, Mason…” She taps her chin with her coral-tipped nail, thinking of another rule.
For a moment I wonder who Mason is, and then realize that’s the fake name I gave her. I cut in, “How about anything goes?”
Her eyes meet mine. “Ok,” she barely says.
This works for me. I’ll most likely break every rule there is, because this woman is already doing crazy things to my body. Her pebbled nipples peeking through her dress have me ready to suck them into my mouth. But, I keep it together—barely.
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