by Cat Johnson
“I’m sure.” Laurel laughed. “Is he still around, your grandfather?”
“Oh, yeah. He’s still as active and as crazy as ever.” Trent smiled. “Lord willing, I hope I’m just like him at his age.”
“My turn to come up with a question.” Laurel turned to face him completely and Trent braced himself for what she might ask, suddenly regretting this little game of twenty questions he’d begun. “Best Christmas ever.”
That he could answer. “Easy. Age five. I woke up to a puppy with a bow around his neck licking my face.”
“How cute.”
“Yeah. He was. In my five-year old wisdom, I named him Sue.”
“You named him Sue?” She laughed.
Trent grinned wide. “Granddaddy’s favorite song is A Boy Named Sue.”
“That’s sweet.”
He tipped his head to the side. “Not sure how the rest of the family or the dog felt about it, but my grandfather laughed his head off. Okay, your turn. Best Christmas.”
“Eleven years old. The last one before my parents got divorced.” Her mood visibly fell and Trent silently cussed himself for coming up with this stupid game. “Do you have a big family?” She seemed to pull herself out of the mood as she changed the subject.
“Not really. Just me and one sister, and that was two questions in a row for you.”
She smiled. “I cheated.”
As sexy and beautiful as she was, Trent sensed more beneath all that. A strength. A determination. He had no doubt Laurel liked to win, in games and in life, and she’d do anything to make that happen.
He supposed he was like that too. He’d worked harder than anyone else on his high school team to get that scholarship to the University of Texas. And once there he’d worked his butt off, juggling school and football, often at the expense of a social life. He still did that during the season—sacrificed everything for the game.
But now he was off and for the next few months his life was his own. Maybe he needed to cut himself some slack and let himself enjoy it.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
Laurel’s lips bowed with a smile. “So am I.”
The distant sound of a knock on the bungalow’s door had them both turning.
Laurel lifted one brow. “Dinner already? That was fast.”
“It sure was.” Just when he’d been enjoying their conversation. “I notice they tend to under promise and over deliver ’round here.”
“Better than the opposite, I guess.”
“You ain’t kidding.” He headed inside to answer the door.
The meal occupied them without benefit of much more conversation than small talk and commentary centered on the resort’s amazing food until Laurel paused with her fork poised in the air. “Is your steak not okay?”
“Hm?” Trent glanced down at his plate. “It’s fine. Why?”
“You don’t seem to be eating much.”
It was true. He’d taken a few bites but had spent most of the time drinking his champagne and feeling oddly uncomfortable eating in this very private setting with a woman who was virtually a stranger.
Strange, that, because there had been times back in college he’d woken up with a warm body next to his and had to work hard to come up with her name.
“The food is fine. It’s—” Trent shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s kind of like how on a first date you lose your appetite?”
A smile lit her face as the dusk settled in more firmly around them. “Is this a date?”
“No . . . Maybe.” He shook his head, and then stood to go flip on the patio light before they were eating in the complete darkness. It might attract bugs, but he didn’t need the temptation of being alone with this woman in the dark. When he got back to his seat he dared to look at her. He saw by her smirk that she was amused by him. “You’re laughing at me.”
“No. I think you’re adorable. First date or not, I never imagined that a man with the kind of body and good looks any Greek god would be jealous of would be nervous having dinner with little old me.”
He smiled at her compliments of him and her modesty about herself. “I guess that stems from you being pretty dang goddess-worthy yourself and from me not having had a whole lotta first dates in the past couple of years.”
“Why not?”
Trent shrugged. “Maybe because women expect a second date after the first . . . and don’t get me wrong, they should expect that if it goes good. I don’t know. It’s hard meeting a nice girl nowadays.” Especially for a man whose multi-million dollar salary was everyday news. “I guess I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up with a first date until I’m sure.”
“And to be sure you’d need to spend time together, such as on a first date. That’s a real catch-22 you got there.”
He dipped his head in a nod. “And so you see my problem.”
That was the true reason he didn’t date much, but not the cause of his nerves tonight. The blame for that could be solidly blamed on the fact that Laurel and he had started out with a lie on his part. A lie of omission, since he told her only partial truths while hiding the rest of who he was. The biggest part of who he was.
If she dug a little deeper, asked a few more questions that didn’t have to do with safe subjects, he’d have to outright lie. He hated the idea of that with every fiber of his being . . . or at least with the parts of him that weren’t already imagining the feel of her body surrounding his in any number of tantalizing, enticing ways.
Laurel leaned forward. “Can I tell you a secret?”
Once he recovered from her bringing up secrets just as he’d been thinking about his own, Trent nodded. “Sure.”
“I eat when I’m nervous.” She nudged her plate forward and drew his attention to it. It was bare. “Does that make you feel any better?”
He laughed. “Yeah, actually it does. You still hungry? I could order something.”
“I’m good. Besides, there’s still dessert.” She gazed in the direction of the plate containing the slice of Key Lime pie.
“We can move on to dessert now.”
“Don’t rush on my account. You didn’t finish your meal.”
“You know what?” He leaned forward conspiratorially.
“What?” she asked.
“My momma’s not here so I don’t have to finish.” He moved the plate of half-eaten steak to the side and slid the dessert between them. “Dig in.”
Trent had no problem working on his half of the slice. It seemed his nerves only affected his consumption of actual food, not sweets.
The rest of the time was spent with her eating and his watching her eat while trying not to notice how damn sexy it was when she ran the tip of her tongue over her lips after a bite of pie. That one was all on him. He’d ordered the damn thing.
The pie was rich enough that even just half of the serving had him feeling full. He leaned back, his belly satisfied, but not the rest of him.
“That was really good.” Time for more small talk to take his mind off what else he’d like that would be really good . . . if he’d let himself indulge in her.
“It was. What time does the pool close for the night?” Her eyes seemed to twinkle a bit as she asked it.
Her question dragged him away from imagining what satisfaction Laurel and that damn tongue of hers could bring to his pleasure deprived body. “I’m not sure it does close.”
A devilish light brightened her expression. “Let’s go swimming.”
He laughed. Why the hell not? It might take his mind off the other less innocent activities swimming through his head. “A’ight. Let’s go.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
She grabbed his hand and he let her pull him down the path toward the pool. As they broke from between the hibiscus bushes, she smiled when she saw there was no one in sight. Perfect.
“No one’s here.” Grinning, she dropped her hold on him so she could strip off her sundress.
“Nope. I reckon we got the whole place to ourselves.”
Glancing at Trent, Laurel saw him watching her. She’d been about to kick off her high-heeled sandals when she noticed his eyes darken at the sight of her standing by the pool in her bikini and heels.
In light of that, she decided to leave on the leg-lengthening shoes that had him looking at her with more hunger than he had his steak—and his steak had looked pretty good. Taking full advantage of having his attention, she took her time and put a little extra sway in her hips as she sauntered to the stack of towels near the pool.
Laurel turned back to find him still watching her. She nearly laughed when she saw him yank his gaze up from where he’d been looking as she walked. She didn’t fault him for that. If he’d just take his shirt off, she’d be doing a bit of staring and drooling herself.
There was no denying the attraction. She reacted to him on a visceral level. There was an awareness between them that they could try to ignore, or they could embrace it.
It was crazy, but she was going to do it. Laurel was going to seduce Trent in the swimming pool of the resort she’d snuck into. A place so expensive and exclusive she doubted she could have afforded the meal they’d eaten for dinner, never mind pay to stay here for even one night.
One night—that’s what this thing between them would be.
She couldn’t tell him who she was. He’d freak and throw her out. But he hadn’t revealed to her who he really was either. They were both keeping their secrets, even while getting to know each other. And she did feel like she knew him.
She knew that even though Trent was so masculine he positively oozed testosterone, he was adorably nervous around her. She knew he loved his family and the ranch he’d talked about. She also knew that as interested as he was in her, he was still playing the gentleman. She’d have to make the first move.
She could do one night with this sweet, sinfully hot enigma of a man. Judging by the way he was looking at her, he could too. Not to mention the way his body had reacted to her in a bikini. She suspected he hadn’t taken his shirt off yet because it camouflaged, though poorly, the telltale bulge in his swim trunks.
Poor guy. She should cut him a break. Turn away and get into the water. She would, eventually. Right now, he was too fun to tease. When would she ever in her lifetime have a chance like this again?
Never was the answer to that question. Tonight would be a night she’d remember the rest of her life. All of it, from crashing an exclusive resort, to the amazing and completely unexpected dinner with Trent, to this—whatever ended up happening here. It would be a story she’d tell her girlfriends years from now when they were sitting around remembering their younger years.
Laurel strode to Trent. “I’m going in. Don’t keep me waiting.” Rising onto her tiptoes so she could reach, she planted a quick kiss on his cheek and then spun away.
With her back facing him, she sashayed to the edge and finally kicked off the heels Trent had found so captivating.
She didn’t glance back to see if he was watching her. He was, she was certain. Just as she was sure the situation in his swim trunks would only get more pronounced. She’d give him the illusion that she hadn’t noticed, but she had. All that the knowledge of what she did to him accomplished was to make her crave the chill of the water to cool off her overheated body.
It was January in Florida and being a native of the state Laurel normally wouldn’t be caught lounging by the pool or swimming until at least spring break. It was only tourists who thought it was warm enough for that this time of year, but Laurel also wouldn’t normally have a hunk of burning man to impress with her bathing suit. And Trent didn’t seem to have issues with the temperature.
As she sat on the edge and lowered one foot in, she found the pool was as warm as bath water. This was certainly not the Travel Inn. Apparently, Little Palm heated their pool water for their guests. The pool maintenance people obviously didn’t know that Laurel and Trent could produce plenty of heat on their own.
Laurel slipped into the water and hadn’t even had time to swim all the way across before she heard the splash of Trent diving in. She reached the other side and gripped the edge. Turning, she was surprised to find him right there behind her. “Oh, hi.”
With the water sluicing off his hair and shoulders, he reached for the edge on either side of her, framing her inside his arms. “Hey.”
“The water’s warm.”
“It’s heated.”
And getting hotter by the minute with Trent barely a breath away from her. “I figured it must be . . . Trent?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for dinner.”
“You’re welcome.” He didn’t move. Not closer and not farther away. The temptation of him stayed right within range and she itched to reach out and grab it.
He was waiting for her to make the next move. She sensed that and somehow knew that if she swam away and put some distance between them he’d accept that.
Now that she’d spent a bit of time within the confines of this man’s arms, she didn’t want to move away. She wasn’t sure she could. It was like he had his own gravitational pull and she’d become trapped in his orbit.
So now what? Laurel swallowed.
The tiny voice in her head screamed kiss him! While the other voice of reason asked what kind of woman kissed a man she’d only known for a couple of hours?
One who’d had some fruity drink with a hell of a kick to it and then a good portion of a bottle of champagne, that’s who. But also the kind of woman who knew what she wanted and went after it.
For better or worse, that was who Laurel was and always had been. It took guts to be a woman in a male dominated industry like private investigations, yet she’d done it and pretty darn successfully too.
The woman who’d faced down angry husbands and white-collar criminals shouldn’t be afraid to go out on a limb and make the first move with a hot guy who’d invited her to dinner and didn’t look as if he was too anxious to put any distance between them anytime soon.
Bracing herself, Laurel moved in just a bit, yet remained shy of his lips. “Trent?”
“Yeah?”
Making the move to kiss him seemed too scary. Too risky. The best she could come up with was to say, “Kiss me?”
He didn’t object. So fast it caused the water to slosh between them, Trent moved closer and crashed his mouth against hers.
Her inner voice only needed that much encouragement to tell her to hold on to this man and hold tight, and she did, wrapping her arms and legs around him. He supported her with his hands beneath her bottom, but in the water she was buoyant, weightless as she moved against him, desperate to get as close as possible.
Trent angled his mouth over hers and deepened the kiss. He plunged his tongue between her lips and groaned as she equaled his enthusiasm, matching the thrust of his tongue stroke for stroke with her own.
She felt his erection pressing against her. Only the barrier of her swimsuit and his kept him from being where she needed him to be. She pressed closer and he drew in a sharp breath through his nose.
Liking the reaction as well as the sensations rocketing through her from the contact, Laurel set a rhythm that had her insides twisting, tightening for release.
He broke the kiss and hissed in a breath between his teeth. “You keep that up and I’m going to embarrass myself right here.”
She didn’t stop her motion. It was hard enough just to say, “I’m so close.”
“Christ.” He smashed his mouth against hers again. Instead of stopping her gyrations, he helped, holding her tighter, pressing her closer against him.
The pressure was exactly what she needed to tip her over the edge. She came hard with an orgasm that rocked her to the core.
Maybe it was the water, the warmth of it surrounding her. Maybe it was the excitement of knowing they could be discovered at any moment. Or maybe it was just Trent.
Whatever it was, she lost herself so completely it wasn’t until she came down from the pinnacle of pleasure tha
t she realized she’d latched her teeth into the skin of his chest and had bit him hard enough to leave teeth marks and probably a bruise.
Amazed that she had no recollection of breaking the kiss and biting him, she traced one fingertip over the mark. “I bit you. I’m so sorry.”
Trent was breathing as hard as she was. “Don’t worry. I liked it.”
“Did you . . . you know.” Laurel tipped her head toward his pelvis, even though judging by the rock hard length still pressed against her she was pretty sure she knew the answer.
His eyes dark with need, Trent shook his head. “No.”
“Good.” Laurel hadn’t had nearly enough of him. She reached between them and slipped her hand beneath the elastic of his trunks.
He groaned as she took him, thick and hard, in her hand and slid it up his length. His lids drifted closed as a wrinkle creased his brow. She could give him what he needed, but to finish like this would be a waste of this man’s perfection.
She brushed her lips across his ear and felt him shudder at the contact. “Trent, make love to me.”
He drew in a shaky breath. “Oh God, I want to but I don’t have a condom.”
“It’s okay. Just pull out.” She’d obviously gone crazy.
She knew all the risks—disease, pregnancy, discovery by hotel management who could kick her out for this—and she didn’t care. All she knew was she wanted him inside her and she didn’t care what chances they had to take to make that happen right here, right now.
“No. Too risky.” He pulled his pelvis back to a safe distance.
Thank God one of them was still thinking clearly. Becky had probably said the same thing to her imposter almost seven months ago and Laurel had seen where that had landed her—her third trimester.
“You’re right.” Logical or not, Laurel couldn’t deny her disappointment—until a crazy notion came to her. She let out a short laugh. “Wouldn’t it be nice if the gift shop here sold condoms?”
Trent’s eyes widened. “I don’t know if it does or not, but I know one way to find out. Wait right here.”