Pleasure Beach

by P. J. Mellor

  He told himself, for about the millionth time, as he turned around and headed back toward his house, that he’d have to be patient. What they had was real. She would contact him when she was ready.

  In fact, he’d been telling himself that very same thing for more than two weeks now. How long did she plan to hold a grudge?

  Jack’s place was coming up on the right again. Did he dare open himself up for more disappointment by checking for her one more time?

  You betcha.

  His steps slowed. Was someone on the deck? He veered to the right until he was within a few yards of Jack’s deck. There was definitely a person on the deck, and it was definitely a woman.

  His heart clenched. Don’t get excited just because she looks like Mac. Could just be your imagination playing tricks—wishful thinking.

  He stopped at the bottom of the steps leading up from the beach.

  The woman sat up and glanced around, then untied the top of her bikini, revealing very familiar breasts. He’d know them anywhere.

  Mac turned onto her stomach, her face turned away from him.

  He made his way cautiously up the steps, not stopping until he stood above her, his shins almost touching her hip.

  While he watched, she reached down, then brought up a tissue to wipe her eyes and nose. Maybe she missed him as much as he missed her.

  Soundlessly, he retraced his steps until he was safely back to the shore, then took off toward his own house at a dead run.

  It might be his last chance. Time was running out. He had to move fast.

  He was going to marry a wild woman.

  McCall clutched the top of her electric-purple bikini close to her sunburned chest and crawled off the chaise.

  The cooler air of the interior sent a shiver across her flushed skin. She must have fallen asleep out on the deck. The sun had already set.

  Not bothering with the light, she made her way toward the stairs. Maybe a long soak in the whirlpool tub, by candlelight, might ease her aching loneliness. She could pretend Alex was there with her.

  “Get used to it, Mac,” she whispered as she rounded the curve of the stairs. “This is the first day of the rest of your life.”

  She paused, one foot on the next step, and stared at the faint glow coming from the master suite. Didn’t she turn off all the lights last night when she finally succumbed to sleep?

  Inching her way to the door, her steps slowed to a stop. Afraid to breathe, lest it be a figment of her wishful imagination, she took in the sight before her.

  Candles adorned every surface. A silver ice bucket sat beside the bed, a large bottle of champagne nesting in the ice. The sultry breeze from the Gulf lazily stirred the air, redolent with the fragrance of the millions of rose petals that covered the big bed and surrounding floor.

  It was gorgeous. Spectacular.

  But the most gorgeous, spectacular thing of all was the sight of Alex, lying on his right side, one hand propped beneath his head, wearing nothing but a smile.

  “I thought you’d never wake up,” he said in a husky voice. “It’s getting kind of hot in here with all these candles.”

  “Well, let’s get rid of them then,” she responded. She leaned over and blew out the candle nearest her, her gaze locked with his.

  She dropped her top and blew out another candle. Then another.

  She wiggled out of the miniscule bikini bottom and blew out a third candle before climbing on the bed of petals.

  Never breaking eye contact, he licked his fingers and snuffed out the two squat candles on the nightstand next to him.

  She blew out the remaining candles and crawled to him until she nestled against him, heart to heart. She slid her arms around his neck and pulled his mouth to hers for a soft kiss.

  “Hi,” she said against his mouth.

  “Hi, yourself.” He deepened the kiss, then broke the connection to cover her face with soft, tiny kisses. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered next to her ear.

  Tears blurred her vision, burned her nose. “I’ve missed you, too, so much,” she assured him in a choked voice.

  His hands skimmed her bare back and hips. The heated throb of his erection beat against her abdomen. “If I can’t make love to you again soon, I think I’ll explode.”

  She laughed and wiggled closer. Yes, this was definitely a glorious, wonderful dream. Right where it all began. “If this is a dream, I don’t ever want to wake up,” she said with a sigh.

  Against her, he stiffened, then pulled back, clasping her face in his hands.

  “I love you, Mac. This is no dream. I’ve gone crazy since I last saw you in the courtroom. No one would let me near you.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Then you were nowhere to be found.”

  “You looked for me?” What had she done in her entire pathetic life to deserve a love like she felt for this man?

  “Of course I looked for you! I was frantic. Then Jack convinced me to take some time off to regroup, plan the next move of my search.”

  “Funny, Jack was also the one who suggested to Tucker that I use his beach house to rest up before I relocated.”

  Derek chuckled. “I think we’ve been had.”

  McCall grinned up at him, tears of happiness in her eyes. “Not yet,” she said as her hand closed around his erection.

  To her surprise, he grabbed her wrist. “Not yet, sweetheart. I want to do this right, and when you touch me like that all I can think of is burying myself in your wet heat over and over again.” He set her away from him and reached over his side of the bed. “I intend to do this right.”

  He rolled back to her and took her hands in one of his. “McCall, I love you. I think I loved you from the first time I saw you stretched out on this bed, allegedly for my pleasure.” He dipped his head and kissed the tip of her breast. “Can you forgive me for being so stupid?” He glanced up through his lashes and gently kissed the other nipple.

  She could only nod, her throat too clogged with emotion. If he wasn’t going where she hoped he was going with this, death by broken heart was a definite possibility.

  “I’m still holding that job open for you.”

  “Job?” Her voice squeaked. She was an idiot. Of course he wasn’t proposing. He’d done it before in the heat of the moment, and she’d turned him down. Whatever gave her the idea he’d ask her again? A secure job and warming his bed, at least occasionally, were about all she could hope for….

  “Mac?”

  She blinked. “Hmm?”

  “Aren’t you going to put me out of my misery and say something?”

  Her eyes widened at the ring flashing fire in the minimal light of the bedroom. The princess-cut diamond was the size of a small skating rink. She must have missed something.

  “Could you repeat…that, please?”

  Instead of repeating, he slid from the bed. Her heart sank.

  He reached to trace her cheek with the tip of his finger. “Like I said, I want to do this right.” He held out the gargantuan diamond ring. “McCall, would you give me the pleasure and honor of accepting the position of my wife? I mean—ah, hell! Mac, I love you. Will you marry me?”

  A hot tide of relief washed over her, beginning at her toes until she was sure she had a full-body blush going. “Yes!” she croaked.

  He vaulted back onto the bed to pull her into his arms for a fierce hug, then slid the ring onto the third finger of her left hand and kissed the knuckle. “Thank God,” he said in a shaky voice. “I was so afraid you’d turn me down, after the things I said. The things I did.” He shook his head. “The things I thought! Mac, how could I have been so wrong?”

  She laughed and snuggled deeper within his embrace, admiring the way the stone of her new ring caught the light. “It’s partially my fault. In my pathetic attempt to be a wild woman, I sent out all the wrong signals and played right into the misconception.”

  “But I’m a great judge of character,” he argued. “How could I have been so wrong? I look back now and realize on
ly an idiot would have mistaken you for a hooker.”

  “I always thought I had a talent for reading people. I thought you were struggling to make ends meet.” She hid her burning cheeks against his chest. What a mistake!

  He laughed again. “How did you come up with that? I told you I owned the beach house down the way.”

  “No, you said you were staying there. Big difference.” She framed his face with her hands, forcing herself to drag her gaze away from the rock on her hand. “Let’s not argue about it. The point is, we’re back together. I’m sorry if I misled you in my feeble attempts at being a wild woman. But I don’t regret it. I had a marvelous time…and I found the love of my life.”

  Talking fell by the wayside while they explored each other with renewed tenderness.

  Derek covered McCall in petals, then removed them, one by one, with his teeth, licking the exposed skin beneath until she writhed with need. Her movements released the smell of crushed roses.

  He knelt between her legs and dragged a silken petal against her sensitized flesh. She quivered with longing, moving her legs restlessly. Attempts to drag him to her were in vain.

  The first hot lap of his velvet tongue made her scream her release.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured as he positioned himself between her legs. “I wanted to wait for you.”

  “I was right with you, babe. Always.” He plunged into her, the feeling so right that it took her breath away. He paused. “And, Mac?”

  She forced her heavy eyelids open to see him staring down at her with love in his eyes. “What?” she whispered.

  “You’ll always be my wild woman.”

  Same Time Next Week

  1

  “Go, go, go!” the women shouted. Kinsey Carlyle barely heard the chants over the roar in her ears as she gulped champagne punch from the hose attached to a large bottle, tied to…a very hunky stripper.

  Drinking of any sort, she knew, was totally out of character. Well, for the last three years anyway. Not since the last time she’d tied one on and woke up in Mexico, married to her blind date.

  She prayed her weird allergy to alcohol didn’t rear its ugly head again during her best friend’s bachelorette party, closed her eyes and drained the bottle. Amid raucous cheers, she opened her eyes.

  She was eye-to-crotch with the stripper. She blinked, trying to bring all the sequins into focus. Up close and personal, it was a pretty impressive crotch.

  Looped. She was definitely looped. She tested that theory with her teeth and found she could no longer feel her lips.

  Zachary would be pissed. Her mind swatted the thought away like an annoying fly. No news flash there. Zachary was always pissed at her these days.

  But she would still marry him.

  Well, she’d finally say yes to his proposal anyway. Then with any luck she’d have a year or so to get used to the idea of spending the rest of her life with good old, dependable to the point of boring Zachary Taylor, D.D.S.

  It was what her parents wanted.

  No, it was what she wanted. Wasn’t it? Closing her eyes again and shaking her head to fight off a wave of dizziness, she assured herself that Zachary was what every American girl wanted. With ancestors dating back to the Mayflower, Kinsey was about as American as you could get; ergo, she wanted Zachary. Correction—she wanted to marry Zachary. Want…well, want was highly overrated.

  “Hey, Kins.” Her twin sister slid next to her on the couch. “You okay?” Karly reached to brush a lock of her sister’s hair from her forehead. “I was, um, surprised to see you drink anything. Then—”

  “Shocked to see me actually having fun?” It was a rude thing to say and Kinsey immediately regretted it. The look on her sister’s face didn’t help her guilt. “I’m sorry. I know you’re just looking out for me.” A small laugh ended in a hiccup. “I’m fine, Karly. Really.”

  “You’re not still actually thinking of accepting Zach’s ridiculous proposal, are you?” Karly shuddered theatrically. “You’ll be dead of boredom within a year.”

  “Easy for you to say. You’re married. What’s so wrong about me finally settling down?”

  Her sister leaned closer and lowered her voice. “We both know you don’t give a rat’s ass about Zachary Taylor! You’re only considering him because of Mom and Dad.” She gripped Kinsey’s hand. “Look, I know I disappointed you all when I eloped with Brad, but don’t do anything stupid just to try to make them happy.”

  “I’m not,” Kinsey insisted, extricating her hand and moving closer to the sofa arm.

  “Whoa!” crowed the bronzed god in a G-string, arms spread wide. His big hands grabbed their heads. “Matching babe bookends!”

  Karly broke away first, shoving the stripper until he stumbled back. “Get the hell out of my face!” she shouted. With a concerned look, she turned to her sister. “Kinsey? What’s wrong?”

  “I think I may be sick—”

  Karly swung one shapely leg back and forth as she perched on the edge of the bathroom counter in the lavish suite. Kinsey spit one last time into the toilet and watched her sister’s annoying habit, wondering what Karly would do if she grabbed her foot and threw her into the bidet.

  Great, now I’m a mean drunk. “Karly, take me home, okay? I don’t think I should be driving.”

  “I can do better than that.” Her sister grinned down at her. “While you were heaving, I called the front desk and booked a room for you. Peg said you could use the nightgown you bought her, but she wants it back.”

  “I can’t go out looking like this! Look at me!” Kinsey gestured in horror at her once pristine white suit, now splattered with…well, she didn’t even want to hazard a guess as to what it was spattered with.

  “Not to worry.” Her sister hopped down and offered a toothbrush and toothpaste. Kinsey’s trench coat was draped over her arm. “Here. Clean up and put this on. Leave your clothes. I’ll take them home and wash them, then bring them back to you tomorrow before checkout.”

  Before Kinsey could think of a reason why that was a bad idea, Karly opened the door and looked back. “You know, sis, I’d use this time to think things through. Maybe have a wild fling. If you marry Dr. Dull, it will probably be the last great sex you have for the rest of your life. Remember that.”

  Kinsey stared at the closed door. Remember that. How could she not remember that? Ever since Zachary had popped the question, it was all she’d thought about. Could she really sleep with the same man for the rest of her life? Especially a man like Zachary?

  She thought of how devastated her parents had been when Karly ran off with Brad, a totally unsuitable match, in their ultraconservative opinion. From the way Karly and Brad still looked at each other, Kinsey wasn’t sure how unsuitable the match was, at least physically. But sex wasn’t everything. Was it?

  Trying not to retch again, she pulled her damp clothes from her skin and peeled them down. Ick. The lace bra was soaked, too.

  In white high-heeled sandals and a white lace thong, she rinsed her arms, face and breasts with refreshingly cool water, then peered critically at her near-naked reflection.

  The white set off her tan; the heels made her legs look even longer. She scowled at her breasts, which, no matter how much weight she lost, refused to shrink. As a teenager on South Padre Island, she knew most of the horny teenage boys on the beach had been attracted by her overly endowed breasts and blond hair. At twenty-seven, she wanted to be loved for her mind and kept her body appropriately clothed.

  Until now.

  She slowly reached up to stroke both breasts and was immediately rewarded by the tingling moistness between her legs. Shifting to ease the discomfort, she thought again of never sleeping with anyone but Zachary.

  Not that she’d had that many sex partners. But then again, every single one she’d been with had been more adept, more eager to please, than her possible fiancé.

  The trench coat gently abraded her skin when she slipped it on, allowing it to hang open while she reached
into the inner pocket. Her fingers closed around Zachary’s ring, still in her possession despite numerous decisions to return it. She examined it under the harsh fluorescent lights.

  The ponderous weight of the gaggingly tasteful ring weighted her hand. Four flawless carats. Eighteen-karat gold. She’d yet to try it on.

  And couldn’t bring herself to do it now.

  The lingering dampness between her legs reminded her of the night Zachary proposed. And her disappointment.

  She wanted to love Zachary. Her parents loved Zachary. He was handsome, had a thriving practice. She would be “well taken care of,” as her mother was so fond of saying.

  So when he’d popped the question and she hadn’t known what to say, she’d allowed him to make love to her to take his mind off the fact that she hadn’t answered him.

  She’d hoped he’d be such a proficient lover that she’d be thrilled and anxious to become his wife. Didn’t happen.

  Foreplay, for Zachary, appeared to be divesting her of her clothes at the speed of light, squeezing her breasts like they were ripe melons, then jumping her bones. Or, as her sister said, sex by the book: Fit tab A into slot B, repeat as necessary.

  That hadn’t taken long either.

  Have a fling. One last time.

  “Oh, don’t be ridiculous!” she told her reflection, dropped the ring back into her pocket and tightly belted the trench coat. “Go get some sleep.” Maybe the alcohol made her feel so restless, so…horny. Things would be better in the morning.

  The bachelorettes were busy with the latest antics of the stripper when she slipped out the door of the suite, clutching the card key her sister had handed her on the way out.

  Thunder rumbled as she pushed the elevator button and waited for its descent. With a ding, the polished brass doors slid open and she stepped inside.

  “Great,” she mumbled, pushing the button for the fourth floor. “Only sixty-two floors to go.” She checked her shoes for stains. What a night.

  Her sigh brought a generous whiff of a delicious aftershave. She wondered who had occupied the elevator before her and if he was married, shifting again at her moist discomfort.