by LuAnn McLane
Oliver laughed. He looked at her long enough for the heat to sink way past her cheeks. “Suit, or I guess, unsuit yourself.” And with that last comment, he walked out the door.
“Mercy!” Belinda leaned against the pillow and fanned her flaming face. “What have I gotten myself into?” She swallowed hard and then leaned against a pillow and put a hand to her chest. The way she felt was seriously dangerous. She’d been drawn to Oliver in their youth. But this feeling was a whole new ball game. Funny thing was that Belinda was cautious when it came to men. So what was up with this flirty behavior? Sure, she could blame yesterday on the booze. She could attribute her emotional state to anxiety over her career, and his kindness felt like a warm blanket wrapped around her, causing her to let her guard down. And what red-blooded woman wouldn’t find Oliver irresistible? From his head to his toes, there wasn’t an inch of heartthrob Oliver Heart that wasn’t completely yummy. Falling for him meant she’d have to get over him, and she should not—repeat, not—get under him.
Yeah, right. Oliver Heart was her new bacon. All he’d have to do was kiss her and she’d melt into a steamy little puddle right at his feet. So, time for a note to self: using her fingertip, she wrote on her hand, Except for the cameras, do not let him get anywhere near my lips. She hesitated and then added:
Or my heart.
Sincerely, Belinda Beal
Crossing her arms over her chest, Belinda sat on the bed and glared at the pile of bathing suits she’d tossed into the corner of the bedroom. Finally, with her lips firmly pressed together, she walked over, sat down, and sifted through the colorful tops and bottoms. “Oh-kay . . . this shouldn’t be so difficult. Ugh!” Why couldn’t she have something more sedate and conservative?
Even when she was growing up she’d loved wearing bright colors. Her mother had sewn many of her clothes, especially her dresses, and Belinda loved to shop for material, letting her fingers glide over the soft cotton. The closest shopping mall had been a couple of hours away, not that they could afford retail or the latest trends. Perhaps that’s why she still preferred her personal style, not caring what was trendy. She’d hated it when she was told what clothes to wear.
Belinda closed her eyes, trying to hold back a hot wave of emotion. She remembered the first time she could afford to go into fancy department stores and buy whatever she wanted to without caring about the price tag. And then she recalled the guilt of throwing down more money on one outfit than she’d spent in a year of shopping. Buying for others never bothered her, but she always felt uneasy spending money on herself. Back in her heyday, she’d showered her parents with gifts.
Belinda blew out a short laugh. “Oh mercy, those days are long gone.” These days, she had to count every damned penny.
Belinda picked up a hot-pink bikini top and wrinkled her nose. Too skimpy and too bold. In fact, parading around in front of Oliver in an itty-bitty bikini held very little appeal. She tossed the top into the pile. Of course, he did say that bathing suits were optional. What would Oliver do if she wore nothing beneath her cover-up? Not that she’d dare, but the thought made her giggle.
Putting her hands to her cheeks, Belinda groaned at her lollygagging. Fisting her hands by her sides, she inhaled a deep breath, suddenly furious with herself for letting her insecurity rear its ugly head. “No . . . just no.”
When she’d been told to shed some weight by her record label, she had at first been shocked. After all, what did her weight have to do with singing? But in wanting success, she’d complied, and by the time she started her first tour, she’d been a size two and had platinum blond hair. When her parents came backstage after her opening concert, her mother had burst into tears, thinking that her spirited Belinda had to be sick or something, and she begged her to come home for some stick-to-your-ribs dinners.
And then, after her fall from pop superstar grace, she’d gone back to dark hair and her normal weight, and the tabloids had a field day with her bigger body. Luckily, pop stars today can throw shade right back at body shaming.
And here she was, shaming her own body! “Enough of this bullshit,” she muttered. She was going to reach into the pile and wear the first suit she picked up. And then she was going to strut her stuff like a bathing queen boss.
“Ha!” she said, but then cringed when she picked up a bright purple bikini top. Playful ruffles accented the matching bottom, one of her favorites, but strapless and skimpy and . . . oh shit. “It’s supposed to be skimpy. It’s a damned bikini!” she grumbled under her breath, and forced herself to stand up.
Throwing her shoulders back, she marched into the bathroom, determined to enjoy a lazy afternoon sunning herself by the pool. And getting to know Oliver Heart wasn’t too shabby a way to spend a day.
After carefully applying her makeup, Belinda braided her hair back from her face and then looked at her reflection. Being in Oliver’s house felt so . . . odd. But then she reminded herself of the importance of being here, so she lifted her chin and flipped her long braid so it playfully crossed over her cleavage.
After slipping her arms through her sheer bathing suit cover-up, she slid on her sunglasses, grabbed her beach bag, and headed for the door. Hiking her bag higher on her shoulder, she inhaled a quick breath and blew it out. The moment of truth had arrived.
Here I come, Oliver Heart. Ruffles and all.
CHAPTER SEVEN
STAYIN’ ALIVE
Oliver stocked the fridge in the outdoor kitchen with snacks and everything they would need for their dinner. Grilled grouper, Caesar salad, roasted corn, and asparagus were on the menu, and he had jumbo shrimp cocktail chilling in the fridge as an appetizer. When he bought the cookies at Thelma’s Sweet Treats, he’d also picked up a loaf of crusty French bread and chocolate éclairs for dessert. Not knowing what kind of wine Belinda preferred, he’d selected several bottles in a wide variety of reds and whites.
Crossing his arms, he stood back and nibbled the inside of his bottom lip. As a man of details, he hoped he’d thought of everything. Now all he needed was for the guest of honor to appear. What could she be doing? He eyed the pool, wondering if he should swim his laps, or if maybe he should lounge around for a change. But he wasn’t much for sitting still.
Wondering if Belinda was ever going to make an appearance, he turned on some music and had to grin when he looked at the faux rock speakers. Was it only yesterday when she arrived? For some reason, it felt like a lot longer, most likely because Belinda had constantly occupied his thoughts since she’d gotten here. Sleep had eluded him last night. He’d tossed and turned, gotten up, and paced liked a caged animal. And he knew the reason. Belinda Beal had arrived on his doorstep. Despite his lack of rest, he knew he had enough nervous energy to keep him going all day long.
Oliver mentally prepared himself for seeing Belinda’s sexy body in a swimsuit, hoping for a barely there bikini. She’d looked so damned cute earlier with her rumpled hair and big sleep shirt, giving her a just-emerged-from-beneath-the-sheets sexiness. He wondered if she knew she was gorgeous even without a trace of makeup. And her throaty fresh-out-of-bed voice laced with that sultry accent? Damn. When he’d tended to her foot, he’d wanted to slide his hand up her calf to feel the silky softness of her skin. And seeing the soft giggle of her breasts outlined beneath the cotton shirt? He blew out a breath just thinking about it.
Oliver checked over everything one last time and then opened a bottle of water. He was in midchug when he heard the door to the guest house open. Finally. His heart thudded in anticipation.
Since he was standing to the side of the pool, Belinda didn’t see him right away, giving him the opportunity to watch her walk over to one of the chaise longues. She wore a sheer light purple cover-up that teased him with glimpses of the bikini underneath.
Oliver took another swig of the cold water that failed to cool him off. Maybe he should just dump the rest over his head or dive into the poo
l. Now just how in the hell was he supposed to keep his hands to himself? How could he not try for another kiss? He remembered how she felt, how she smelled . . . how she tasted. Oh shit, yes, he definitely needed to jump into the pool. Luckily he was near the deep end and could get in before she noticed how glad he was to see her.
After one last guzzle of water, he took a few running strides and dove into the pool. Ahhh, the water had just enough chill to offset the heat of his body. A moment later he broke the surface and then swam over to the edge near where Belinda had taken a seat. “Come on in, the water’s fine,” he said with a grin of encouragement.
“I think I’ll just relax for a little while,” she said primly, and pulled a magazine out of a big beach bag.
What? No, he wanted her in the pool. “Aw, come on in! It’s treated with salt so the water is good for you. It will help your bum ankle.”
“I’m good.”
Oh, he just bet she was better than good. Arching an eyebrow, Oliver sent a splash her way.
“Hey! You got me wet.”
“That was the goal.” He did it again.
“Stop it!”
“Make me.”
“You do not want to get into a splashing war with me.” She wagged a finger of warning.
“Oh really?” Oliver laughed. “Are you serious?”
“Completely.”
“Belinda, I am the youngest of four brothers, and we grew up with a pool in the backyard. I am highly skilled in water fights. Like top tier.”
“I’m sure you are,” she said in a so-what tone. “But not better than me.”
“Try me.”
She flipped through pages without answering him.
“Are you chicken?”
Belinda rested her magazine on her lap and looked at him over the top of her sexy sunglasses. “Oliver, I came out here to relax,” she said, drawing out every syllable of each word. “Can you puh-lease just let me read my magazine and soak up some sun?”
Oliver answered with a bigger splash. “Not a chance!” he shouted.
With a gasp, Belinda tossed the magazine to the side and dabbed at her face with a towel. “Seriously, y’all are headin’ into dangerous territory. And here I thought you were quite possibly the nicest person ever. What happened to sweetheart Oliver? Has he been kidnapped? I want him back.”
Oliver gave her his best puppy-dog look. “I’m just trying to get your attention. Come in and play with me,” he pleaded in a sulky tone.
She raised her eyebrows.
“Okay, that didn’t come out right.”
“For Pete’s sake!” Belinda shook her head. “Go back to swimming.” She shooed him with her hands.
“We’re supposed to be getting to know each other. How can we do that with your nose buried in a magazine?”
“Later,” she said firmly, but he detected a hint of a smile that she couldn’t hide.
“Okay.” Oliver drew the word out glumly and pushed off from the wall. He swam a couple of laps and floated on his back, lulling her into thinking he’d given up. This kind of playful behavior was more like something Jesse would do, but for some reason, Oliver felt compelled to bug her until she had to retaliate. Yes, he was certain she’d jump into the pool and try to get back at him.
When Oliver reached the deep end, he dove beneath the surface and glided through the water. He and his brothers often competed to see who could stay under the longest, and Oliver would hold his breath until his lungs burned. Being the youngest, he never won, but it wasn’t for lack of trying.
Oliver swam back and forth until he had to come up for air, thinking he’d surface like a killer whale and douse Belinda with a soaking splash. He broke the surface with both hands and sent a huge amount of water her way, only to discover she was standing right there by the side of the pool. His wall of water hit her with so much force that her sunglasses flew off her face.
“Why you—!” Belinda shouted, and then the next thing he knew she jumped into the pool and started sending rapid machine-gun splashes at him, nailing him in the face. “You are going to be so, so sorry!” And then before he could recover she shot up from the water and shoved his shoulders so hard that he flopped backward, going under. When he surfaced, he didn’t know where the hell Belinda had disappeared to until his legs were swept out from under him, forcing him forward. She was like a damned ninja water warrior.
Oliver surfaced, sputtering and coughing. Damn, she had some skills. He whipped around, searching for her, but she’d somehow gotten out of the pool just that quickly. She stood there with her hands on her hips, dripping everywhere, chest heaving, while she glared down at him. “That will teach ya.”
“Teach me what?” Shoving his hair back he looked up at her. Holy shit. The sheer cover-up clung to her like a second skin, molding to her unending curves and secret places.
“Not to mess around with me,” she said with a confident flip of her braid over her shoulder. She was breathing hard, drawing attention to where the material clung to her breasts.
“I’m a slow learner. Hop in and give me a few more lessons.” Oh, but he wanted to mess around with her. Cocking his head to the side he gathered a huge scoop of water.
“Don’t you even dare.”
“That was the wrong thing to say.” With lightning speed, he doused her before she could retreat to safety.
“Are you kiddin’ me?” With a squeal that had to hurt dogs’ ears, Belinda catapulted herself into the pool directly at him. Nailing him in the chest, she shoved him backward, plunging him into the water. Oliver grabbed her around the waist, pinning her arms to her sides as he broke the surface. She wiggled for all she was worth, but he sank beneath the surface, taking her with him. They bobbed up in the deep end like a cork and she wrapped her legs around him, trying to break free. “And here I was about to jump in and save you when you hadn’t come up for so long!” she shouted right next to his face.
“Use your indoor voice,” he said with a grin.
“We’re outside!” she yelled. “This is my you’re-gonna-be-sorry voice. Remember it.”
“So, you were coming in to save me? Really? Like a modern Disney princess?”
“What the hell, Oliver. Who stays under the water that long? Do you have gills or somethin’?”
“You were going Pam Anderson on me?”
“Well, I couldn’t just let you drown now, could I? I mean, you pissed me off with the silly splashing, but still . . . you scared the damned daylights outta me!” she said, nearly grazing his lips with hers.
“I’m sorry. I was just playin’.” He lifted his hands in surrender. “See, I’m still alive.”
“Don’t ever do that again!” Belinda said, and he would have laughed, but there was a slight tremble in her voice. “And you had the damned nerve to splash me while I was on my Baywatch run.”
Oliver chuckled. “Well, thank you. But you did get me back with that full-body tackle. Damn, girl. Impressive.”
“It’s hard running in slow-mo. I tripped.”
“Over what?”
“Who knows? Probably nothing. I can seriously trip over a blade of grass. You’ve seen me in action.” She shook her head. “My brain usually has too many tabs open.”
Oliver laughed. He loved that she could poke fun at herself.
“Have you forgotten that I tend to injure my sorry self?”
“There’s not one thing that I’ve forgotten about you.”
Oliver released her arms, but she pressed her shoulders up against the tiled wall. She clung to him. They were both breathing hard. A few heated seconds ticked by while he stared into the eyes that had kept him awake and then haunted his dreams last night. “You had to know I had a huge, very real crush on you back in the day.”
“I didn’t,” she answered softly. “But I’ll admit that I liked you too and hid i
t with sassiness.”
“Your sassiness was part of the turn-on.”
“And now?”
“Everything about you is a turn-on.”
“Yeah, but we—”
Oliver silenced her protest with a long, deep kiss.
She tasted like temptation and he was helpless to resist. Having her body wrapped around him while he explored her mouth heated his blood and hardened his dick. Desire, hot and potent, had him pressing closer, kissing her with a desperate hunger he’d never experienced before. The water lapped around them, silky, sensuous . . . intoxicating. He had never wanted a woman more than he wanted Belinda right now. Never.
Pushing the thin material to the side, Oliver moved his mouth to her neck. She sucked in a quick breath and gripped his shoulders hard. Her breasts, firm and full, pressed against his chest, and he wanted to see them, cup the fullness, and suck her nipples into his mouth, licking, biting, feasting, until she was wild for him.
“Oliver . . .” she said breathlessly. Was it a question or a plea? Please let it be a plea.
Oliver lifted his head and gazed into those amazing eyes. “Yeah, babe?” She seemed to be searching his face for answers and he knew she was torn, like him. He put his fingers beneath her chin and rubbed his thumb over her full bottom lip. “Hey,” he said in a husky tone, not knowing what else to say. He wanted to give her the reins.
“Hey, what?”
He swallowed hard. “With you wrapped around me? That’s all I got.”
“I don’t think this was what Devin meant by getting to know each other,” she said with a weak chuckle.
“I’m not so sure about that, Belinda. Even when we were kids, we knew there was chemistry between us.”
“You felt it too?”
“Yeah.” Oliver closed his eyes and released a short chuckle. “But this blows me the fuck away.”
“This is just . . . crazy.” She caught her bottom lip with her teeth.
“I think it’s safe to say that keeping our hands off each other just isn’t going to happen. Am I right?” He kissed the tender inside of her neck, loving it when she moaned deep in her throat. Damn, he longed to slip his fingers beneath her bikini bottoms and explore, tease, until he heard her cry of release.