He kept his eyes on hers, afraid that if he dropped his gaze he’d drop a whole lot more than that. He didn’t need a visual to know what was hidden under that thin towel. His manhood stirred and thickened. Wanting it also.
He swallowed, fighting with himself. One move and he could whip away that towel and topple her onto his bed and sink so deeply into that beautiful flesh that he’d never want to let go.
Most men would. He’d been one of them for awhile. Taking what was being offered, enjoying the fruits of his labor. Money talked, and his job paid well.
But that was then, and this was now.
“Where are the clothes I laid out for you? Go and put them on, then we’ll talk.”
“You really are a chicken shit, aren’t you? I think you’re afraid of me.” She released the towel and stood before him naked. “See? I’m not armed or dangerous.”
“Brittany…” he sighed, keeping his gaze on her face, seeing something more beneath the surface of her beauty. “You’re the one who’s afraid. Why do you crave sex so much? Maybe it isn’t sex, but company. I think that you are afraid to be alone.”
Her eyes flashed brighter than the lightning outside his window. “I’m not afraid of anything.”
“Then put some clothes on, come into the living room, and sit with me. Let’s talk.”
She grabbed the towel and covered herself. “Talk about what? What do you want to know?”
“Everything. I think you’re a fascinating character. I want to know who you are and what made you so.”
“Well, I’m not fictional. I’m a real person, with real feelings.” She sniffed. “And you’ve just hurt mine. Again.”
CHAPTER TEN
Brittany slammed the door of the bathroom closed behind her and dropped the towel, slipping the comfortably worn NYC sweatshirt on over her head. The shorts were loose around the waist, but they were dry. Chase’s words rankled. She wasn’t afraid of being alone, and she wasn’t a tramp either. She liked sex, safe sex, on her terms.
What did he want to talk about anyway? According to his driver’s license, he was thirty-five—he’d been married, so he had to know a little something about how a woman thought. She wasn’t unusual. Quite normal, in fact.
She was tempted to run home so she wouldn’t have to face him. But that would be an escape, like she was afraid of his questions or whatever. She’d show him—Brittany had nothing to hide.
Once dressed, hair towel-dried, she returned to the living area where he sat with the dog, watching TV. He turned with a smile. “Now you look warm and cozy. Come sit down. I opened up some wine.”
“I see.” She walked toward him slowly, head held high, shoulders back. She would not be intimidated or ashamed. She was Brittany Holmes, self-confident, passionate person, and she’d never apologize for it either.
He patted the seat next to him. Before she could take it, Max jumped into the spot.
Chase laughed and scooted him down. “Go get your bunny,” he told the dog. “He has a favorite toy, a plush bunny, minus the ears he’s chewed off.”
She sat down, feeling a little skittish. One wrong word and she was out of there. She kept a good foot between them.
“So what do you want to talk about?” she asked, accepting the glass of wine.
“Anything and everything,” he answered. “Tell me about yourself. Where did you grow up? Is your father still around? Any other siblings?”
“Why do you want to know this stuff?”
“Just curious about you, and your sisters. You’re a very close family. Don’t see that so much nowadays. Living and working together. How did you end up here in Paradise Cove?”
Brittany sipped from her glass before answering. “You sure you want to hear all this?” Outside the window a streak of lightning shot through the sky, and she heard the rumble of thunder. She gave a little shudder. A person’s past was a private affair. It shouldn’t be pulled out and inspected. He had no right to know, and yet she had no reason not to tell him. It wasn’t a big deal. Not anymore.
“Why not? You can’t go home in this storm.”
“Well, if you are really interested, then okay.” She sighed heavily and pulled back her hair. “But it’s pretty boring.”
“Try me. If I fall asleep just poke me.”
Brit laughed. “Okay. Just remember. You asked for it.” She took a deep breath. She rarely talked about her childhood. Jose had never asked, and they hadn’t discussed her past. So why was she considering opening up to this near stranger about something that had affected her so deeply? 9-11 had been a life changing event for many people. Her pain was no different than the person’s down the street.
“This is ridiculous. My story isn’t that important.” She shifted her weight, wishing she could just run and hide. What had happened to her had happened to thousands of others. She was not alone in a national tragedy.
“It is to me.” Chase slung his arm casually across her shoulders, offering encouragement before he sat back again. She sensed his curiosity, his desire to know her better.
“I don’t know.” Only eleven at the time of the terrorist attack, her loss had shaped her, changed her from an innocent child to someone aware of evil in the world.
“It’s all right if you don’t want to talk,” he said quietly. “We could listen to music. Play board games.”
“Board games? No thanks. I guess we could talk a little.”
Closing her eyes, Brit leaned her head back against the sofa, and started talking. “My dad died in the Twin Towers on 9/11. We were living in New Jersey at the time and he commuted from Princeton. I was eleven, Kayla was seventeen, and Taylor fifteen. We watched it on the news.” Her stomach churned, confirming that these memories were not ones she wanted to revisit. “It was horrible.”
Chase reached for her cold hand and squeezed. “More than horrible. It was the worst thing that has ever happened in this nation—a tragedy to every one of us, but specific for the four of you.” His gaze was gentle and caring. “I’m so sorry. It must have been devastating.”
“It was.” She chewed on her bottom lip for a second, remembering the moment the “breaking news” had appeared on the television set. Her mother hysterically crying, her sisters huddled with her on the sofa, too terrified to speak.
Their world had come crumbling down just as the towers had. Piece by piece, their lives were broken, the family unit destroyed, their great nation’s security at risk, peace and hope forever gone.
“Mom and Kayla took it really hard. She was the closest to Dad, being the oldest and all. I slept under my bed for days until Mom found me there. I would cry most nights, and then try to be strong during the day. Everybody was crying, and it was so horrible, I tried to cheer them up.”
“Oh, Brittany.” He put an arm around her shoulder, and pulled her in for a hug. “I had no idea that you all suffered so much. Looking at the four of you now, wow, you’re all so outgoing and happy, it’s hard to imagine.”
“Thousands suffered the same as us that day. It was a long time ago. I had nightmares for years.” She blinked back tears, remembering the pain. “We all died a little inside, but then we healed. Dad didn’t though. He lost his life, us, everything because of those crazy people who wanted to destroy us. And they did.”
He reached for her wine glass and gave it to her. “Drink up.”
She did, and so did he. Then she put her glass down on the coffee table, and shifted so she could face him. “A few years later, Mom met a wonderful guy, Allan, and they got married. He was a kind, generous man—a dentist. It was his dream to retire in South Florida and run Paradise Cove, but then he had a heart attack and left the resort to us. That was three years ago. We took a vote, and decided to come down here for a year or two, and see how we liked it. I was the only one who didn’t stick it out.”
She searched his face, wondering what he thought of her. Not that it mattered. She didn’t care what anyone thought; she lived life on her own terms. Didn’t she
know better than anybody how fleeting life could be?
“I’m starting to understand you better.” His fingers caressed the back of her neck. “You leaving Paradise Cove to pursue dance wasn’t a mistake. Without dreams, we are lost. Might as well give up and go vegetate somewhere.” He got up and refilled their wine glasses, then returned. “So tell me about Miami. Your dancing career. It couldn’t have been all bad.”
Brittany was grateful to change the subject. “It wasn’t. Not at first. It was wonderful, exciting, all and more than I’d ever hoped for. But I was star-struck. Blinded by a lot of it. Or pretended to be.” Now that she had opened up to him it was like a dam inside of her had burst. She wanted to reveal herself to this stranger, and let Chase inside. He seemed so understanding.
“Go on,” he said gently, stroking her nape lightly.
“It wasn’t until I’d been there for half a year that I admitted to myself what was going on around me. Girls doing drugs. Girls sleeping with customers. Girls that were anorexic. Doing whatever it took to move up in the dance company and survive.”
“Sounds familiar. The ad industry is a lot like that. Not just the women, but men too. Being smarter than anyone else. Being singled out of the crowd. It’s a cutthroat business.”
She leaned back, her head resting on his shoulder, her knees drawn up to her chest. “How did you stand it year after year?”
“When my wife left me, I needed to prove something to myself. I was one of those guys that had to be smarter and better than the rest. I got the bigger accounts, the bigger office, more accolades. Along with that I got the ladies who wanted to be seen with an advertising executive like me.” He smiled sheepishly. “It worked for a while. But eventually, you have to stop pretending.”
She knew all about that. Brittany spoke quietly against his shirt. “I’ve never told anyone this, not even my sisters, but after Dad died, I never felt safe again. Walking down a dark street at night, traveling on an airplane, meeting new people—everything held a risk. But it also was adrenalin pumping too. Like watching a scary movie.” She lifted her head and gave a short laugh. “Thing is, we all know we’re going to die. It’s just a matter of when.”
“What about the pool earlier tonight?” He tugged a lock of her hair. “Was that an adrenalin rush or some crazy-assed death wish?”
“Adrenalin! I don’t want to die.”
“Then why were you not willing to seek shelter?” His voice rose in frustration. “You fought me every step of the way.”
“Sorry about that.” She glanced up at him. “That’s just me. I like to defy nature—laugh in Mother Nature’s face.” Grinning, she said, “I’m a little kooky, I know. But I do love to dance in the rain.” Dance was everything.
He stroked her cheek. “You’re a very strange girl, but I like you, Brittany. I really do.”
“Good. I like you too.”
Over the next few hours they talked about everything. Favorite food, scariest moments, fears as well as dreams. They’d finished the first and opened up a second bottle of wine, and she was sleepy.
She lifted her head from Chase’s shoulder. “Lightning is still crashing around us, and it’s not safe to go home.” Brittany touched his mouth with a gentle finger. “Can I sleep with you tonight? We don’t have to make love. I would just really like it if you held me in your arms.” She held her breath, waiting for his reply. She truly hated being vulnerable, so damn needy. For so many years, she’d fought to be brave. But inside she was still the cowering girl that had slept in terror underneath her childhood bed.
“Of course you can.” He shifted his position on the couch so that he could look directly into her face. His emerald eyes were warm, compassionate, and welcoming. “It’ll be all right, Brit. I promise.”
She didn’t know what he was promising but she released her breath, and the tension melted away. “You’re a good guy, Chase. I think I’m going to enjoy having you as a friend.”
He kissed her forehead. A chaste press of the lips. “You ready to turn in now?”
“How should we do this? Maybe I should use the bathroom first, and get into bed, then you can follow. I’ve never slept with a male friend before. Sleepovers used to be a bunch of girls, with buckets of cheap wine, giggling about boys.” Her lips curved up. “Got a feeling this might be more fun.”
“It’s going to be a first for me as well.” Standing, he used the remote to turn off the TV, then picked up the wine glasses to rinse in the sink.
“This will probably be the sexiest night ever. Sleeping with you, and unable to do anything about it. Oh, wow!” She jumped up. “I can’t wait to get started.”
“This night just gets crazier and crazier.” Laughing low, he picked up the dog’s leash. “Come on, Max. One last piddle before bed.”
“Poor Max. Going out in this weather. He probably doesn’t like to dance in the rain like I do.”
“Neither do I.” He winked at her. “See you in bed, sweetheart. Get it warm for me.”
Brittany’s pulse sped. Just friends, huh? She wasn’t making any promises.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Chase took the dog out back. The rain fell in solid sheets, bouncing off the grass. Thunder boomed and lightning flashed. “You’ve got to hurry, Max. Do your thing.”
He stayed on the porch and pushed Max away from the dry overhang, into the rain. In the fastest pee ever, Max was back but soaked. Once inside, the little rascal shook his wet body, spraying both Chase and the kitchen floor. “Thanks, you little shit.” He wiped the dog off, and then used a paper towel on the floor and himself.
Max settled down in his crate while Chase stood there for a few minutes anticipating the night ahead of him. He was no saint. Something about Brittany woke his honorable intentions which meant keeping his hands off that delectable body for the duration of time that he remained in Paradise Cove, or until their relationship took a serious turn.
Being a sensible man, he knew when he had a good thing going—cheap rent in an idyllic setting with four beautiful women. He enjoyed being a guest in their resort, and sincerely liked Anna and the girls. He had no inclination to rock the boat. Or the bed, in this case.
Even if the hard-on he sported begged to differ with him. He hated to admit it but his little head had more influence than his big head half the time.
He used the restroom, brushed his teeth, and stripped out of his clothes. He left on his boxer shorts, turned off the light and headed for the bedroom. He wondered what Brittany was wearing, and how he was going to resist her many charms.
With any luck she’d be fast asleep, and he might get some too. He could make out her form under the sheets, and see her head cushioned on his pillow. He could tell from her breathing that she not sleeping.
“So, are you going to stand there, or get into bed?” Her soft words were followed with a silky laugh. “I don’t bite, at least not often, and not hard.”
“Are you going to behave yourself?”
“Of course I am. I was just teasing you.” She plumped the pillow and sat up, her hair falling around her shoulders. “Now you’ve gone and hurt my feelings. As if I can’t possibly control myself around you. Boy, those New York ladies must have been crawling all over you.”
He grinned. “Some of them were. But I’ve turned a new leaf. Only meaningful sex henceforth.”
“What does “hence” mean?”
“Means “for this reason”. Doesn’t mean that I will only have sex with someone I love, but I want the act to mean something.” He slipped into bed and put an arm around her shoulder, drawing her head down to his chest. “Don’t make a big deal out of it. I’m very happy to be sleeping here next to you, holding you in my arms. That’s meaningful too.”
“What does it mean?”
“It means I like you and respect you, and feel that after our conversation earlier we are getting to know each other in a positive way.”
“So does this mean that for the rest of your life, you can never, ever
have fun sex again?”
He wished they could change the subject, because all this talk about sex had his erection getting stiffer by the second. He put one leg over the other, hoping to bury the boner.
“I’m not sure about forever and ever, but for the time being, yes. Like now, for instance. Why don’t you roll over and try to get some sleep?”
“Okay. I can do that.” She flipped on her side, and now he could feel her adorable little fanny next to his thigh. His eyes had adjusted to the dark and he now knew what she was wearing. His gray New York Yankee t-shirt and nothing else.
Oh, he was in for a hellova night.
“Is that better,” she murmured.
“No.” His voice came out strangled. “I think I might have to sleep on the floor.”
“Don’t be silly.” She flopped over again and her face nuzzled into his neck. “Just let me lie here and breathe you in. I’ll fall asleep like this for sure.”
He stilled.
She took his hand and put it on her breast. “Just like this. Cuddled close and warm. Safe.”
He didn’t dare move. Not a muscle. His hand ached to touch a nipple, to tweak it just a little. He would have given his left nut to do just that. Only that. Hell, he’d have given all his body parts to do a whole lot more. She was probably the most enticing, maddening woman he’d ever met.
He wondered what her mouth would taste like. Sweet, like honey? He wanted to taste a lot of things, and touch and feel everything at once. He wanted to know the shape of her ass, the fullness of her breasts, how taut and tight her stomach would be as his hand slid over her, until it found the warm, moist core that it had been seeking.
He focused on breathing, and not thinking. Slow measured breasts, no, breaths, he corrected himself, but before his eyes hundreds of perfectly shaped tea-cup size breasts appeared. He frantically tried to count them all before they disappeared, but the ache in his groin made the task too difficult.
“You’re moaning,” she whispered, her soft hand on his naked chest. “Are you having a bad dream?”
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