by Tessa Teevan
Just as I’m about to turn around, I think about Davey. Robert. Ryan. The last one gives me shivers, and not in a good way. Maybe this guy can break my dry spell. Maybe he’s what I need. After all, it’s not like I’ll ever have to see him again. Maybe we can just have this one night with a lifetime of memories.
I’m getting way ahead of myself, but hell, what’s the worst that could happen?
Thoughts of Ryan’s mom pop into my head, and I stamp those way, way down. After all, I’m a guest here. I want to relax with my drink and turn into a prune in the hot water. No man, no matter how sexy, is going to stop me. So I take a sip of liquid courage and stroll across the wet cement, trying not to seem either too eager or too hesitant.
I feel eyes on my ass while I spread my towel out. I might make a show out of shimmying my shorts and hoodie off, but what can I say? I’m shameless.
When I turn back toward the hot tub, I see that my intuition wasn’t wrong. He’s absolutely eyeing me, and I give myself a silent pat on the back for my shimmy game. I don’t know if it’s the atmosphere, the alcohol, or his ridiculously good looks, but there’s something in the air tonight that’s making me want to throw all caution to the wind and have one of those good old-fashioned one-night stands I’ve heard so much about.
Whoa, girl. Maybe say two words to the fella before you fall on his dick.
My conscience cools me off a little. Because, yes, I’m getting way ahead of myself. Who wants a desperate girl, anyway? So I settle down, trying hard—and failing—to hold a sigh of pleasure back as I enter the deliciously warm water. Goosebumps pebble my upper body until I set my cocktail on the edge of the hot tub and lower myself into the water to get comfortable.
It’s just this sexy stranger, me, and the sounds of soft ’80s music playing over the sound speaker on the pool deck. I almost laugh when Heart’s “All I Wanna Do Is Make Love To You” comes on. I’m not sure if it’s the universe telling me to go for it or to run far, far away, considering that the woman in the song gets knocked up. Then again, I don’t have some infertile man back home waiting for me, so I decide I’m not going to take it as a bad omen.
We sit here through most of the song in what doesn’t quite feel like an uncomfortable silence, but once the song switches to “Piano Man,” I decide to just let it be. If he wants to talk, he’ll talk.
I close my eyes and rest my head back against the concrete, allowing Billy Joel to take me away. My fingers drum against my thigh, grateful that I excelled at one thing Mother had forced onto me in my childhood. Piano playing was my favorite before I got so busy with school, and I couldn’t hear this song without wanting to find my own set of keys and lose myself in the music. Which is pretty much what I’m doing now, except my leg is the piano.
As the song continues, I feel those eyes on me again. I tell myself to keep mine closed. Don’t give in. But I’m weak, and the moment I open mine, I see that, once again, intuition has won.
When he sees I’ve caught him staring, he has the decency to throw me an absolutely gorgeous smile. It’s full, breathtaking, and cocky as hell, as if he knows exactly what he’s doing.
Warmth pools deep in my belly. From a freaking smile. If I were a puppy, I’d be saying, “Down, girl.”
Since he’s so shamelessly watching me, I take my time studying him, capturing every sight and committing it to memory. Davey, Robert, Ryan who?
I’ve heard of men with chiseled features, yet I’d never met one. Not until this guy. He’s chiseled to such perfection that Michelangelo couldn’t have even dreamed him up.
He has a sharp nose, a jawline so sturdy that Matt Bomer would be jealous, and just the faintest hint of cheekbones that make him appear rugged yet pretty. If you could call a man pretty. This one definitely is.
And, now, I sound absolutely pathetic, waxing poetic about a man I don’t know.
His eyes, from what I can see across the hot tub, are a dark blue and currently gleaming with delight in my direction. That warmth in my belly slowly slides down until it rests in the space between my legs.
Down, girl, indeed.
The stirring surprises me. Since Ryan, I haven’t met a man who’s sparked desire within me. But from one look, one smile, this guy is igniting an inferno.
Or maybe I just really, really need to get laid.
“All by yourself?”
I shouldn’t be surprised that his voice is as sexy as the rest of him, but holy moly, the rumble of that timbre resonates far too intimately.
My gaze, naturally, falls to his lips, which are wet and full of promise. I imagine those lips on mine, trailing down the curve of my neck, on my breasts.
Billy Joel turns into Prince’s “Kiss”, and if the universe was telling me something with all the mishaps before, I’m hearing her loud and clear this time.
I shake my head, trying to regain my composure so I’m not too obvious. I plaster an unaffected, bored expression on my face, having no idea if I’m even playing it off. “And if I am?”
His answering grin melts my insides like butter. God, the combination of that grin with Prince crooning in the background is downright sinful. How can a girl not be affected?
“Then I’d say it’s a shame, but I’d really be lying. All the better for me, of course.”
The words on anyone else’s lips would sound predatory. From this man, judging by the sudden ache between my legs, they elicit nothing but pleasure.
“I’m assuming that means you’re here alone as well,” I say, hoping he can’t tell that I’m totally fishing. Because if he’s flirting with me and then a girlfriend, a sister, or a freaking mom shows up, I’m going to curse the universe and swear fealty to the sisterhood.
“Flying solo,” he says, and two words have never been sweeter. “Now, tell me there isn’t some man waiting for you upstairs.” He pauses, his lips quirking. “Because I’m usually a gentleman, but if any man is stupid enough to leave you down here alone in that tiny bikini, he deserves to lose you.”
My cheeks flush with heat. “No. No man,” I reply, surprised at the throatiness of my voice.
His expression changes to that of a kid who’s just unwrapped his favorite toy on Christmas morning. And I hope he’s been good this year, because I want this man to unwrap me next.
“A man waiting for you wherever you’re from?” he asks, and strangely, I’m kind of touched he cares to ensure that his newest—I hope—conquest is actually unattached. It shows character. At least that’s what I’m telling myself.
“I stand by my previous statement. And you? Do you have a woman?”
The sound of his laughter echoes around us. “Uh, no. Not attached. Single as can be. I’m not one for relationships. Life’s too busy. But if I were, I’m the monogamous sort. I just haven’t met anyone who’s made me want to settle down.”
“I can appreciate brutal honesty. Especially since I feel the same.”
He takes a beer off the ledge next to him and lifts it towards me. “Here’s to two beautiful, single people sitting in a hot tub on a beautiful night at the beach.”
A giggle escapes my lips, and even though I want to groan at my idiocy, I raise my own drink in his direction, take a sip, then watch him.
“Cocky much?” I ask.
His lips twitch before curling up into a wry grin. “Confident,” he says. Then he tilts his head. “Am I wrong?”
“If that’s your way of fishing for a compliment…” I pause, unsure if I should tell him what he wants to hear. In the end, I decide to just go with it. “It worked. Confidence is definitely sexy.”
And the grin that crosses his lips showcases just how confident this guy is.
“So, what’s a beautiful woman like you doing at the beach all by herself? Navarre’s getting more popular, but it’s still not quite reaching the top travel destinations yet. And heaven help us if it ever does.”
“I’m not here by myself…” I say, but I trail off when a frown crosses his lips. I’m quick to amend my sta
tement. “I mean, I’m here alone tonight. It’s just that my older sister will be joining me in the morning. We’re just taking some time off to de-stress before the new year.”
Mock disappointment comes across his features and he releases a sigh. “Ah, so you’re not here celebrating a break from college where you’ll be downing tequila shots and dancing on tables?”
While that would’ve been me a couple of years ago on spring break in Mexico, that girl has grown up. Kind of. So I roll my eyes, taking a sip of my cocktail before looking back at him with feigned shocked. “Of course not. One, I’m finished with school, and two, that’s not my style.” I lean forward. “Anymore.”
Once again, he gives me that stupid grin. “Hmm. I’m not so sure about that.”
I bristle at his words. Mostly because he’s right. I was that girl while in college, at least during my undergrad program. I was all about the parties, the drinking, the dancing. Yes, even sometimes on tables. Pretty sure it’s a rite of passage when you go to Cabo, and who was I to forgo tradition?
But that was before. Once I moved from an internship to full-time employment, I left my reckless, carefree self behind. Between work and school, I no longer had time for parties, happy hours, or vacations. I was too busy trying to establish a presence at WC so I prove to my parents I don’t need a man to take care of me the way they expect it from Ariana.
I take the straw from my drink and bring it to my lips, toying with the end before pointing it at him. “You’re right. Perhaps once upon a time, I was that girl, but those days are over now.”
“A pity. Tits like yours would definitely win a wet T-shirt contest.”
I gasp in shock while simultaneously experiencing a stirring in my loins. For God’s sake, the man is making me think of loins. Gah. And he’s rendered me speechless, which is no small feat for any man.
“How rude of me,” he says with a smile. “I should at least introduce myself if I’m going to admit to enjoying the sight of your gorgeous breasts. I’m Shane. And you are?”
I gape at him. I mean, didn’t I just say that I appreciated brutal honesty? But still…
“I’m…I’m…appalled.” I tilt my head in thought and amend my statement. “No. You know what? I appreciate it. I do have great tits. I’m wearing a bikini to show them off, so thank you, Shane. Ogle away”
An expression of appreciation covers his face, and I squirm at the hunger in his eyes, trying not to notice he’s inching closer to me, or how my pulse races with each nearly imperceptible movement.
“And may I know the name of the beautiful woman who has such a gorgeous body, along with an angelic face that would have any man kneeling in worship?”
I almost snort. If it were any other man, at any other time, I would have, along with an eye roll. But for some reason, on this night, with this man, I’m up for anything. Cheesy pickup lines and all.
Against my better judgment, I respond without hesitation. “I’m Alyssa from Atlanta, just finished my graduate program, and soon-to-be hotshot accountant.”
I gave him more than he asked for, but considering I’m already wondering how to get him back to my room, I figure a little small talk can’t hurt anyone. And why not? Shane’s incredibly handsome, we’ve established we’re both single, and to be honest, I’m so not opposed to a one-night stand. It’s been a long damn time since I’ve reached any base, and the thought of this man on top of, inside, and/or all around me is incredibly arousing. Not that he’s offered or anything, but if I have my way, he totally will.
“As you know, I’m Shane, been outta the school game for six or so years, and currently an employee at this resort who’s breaking the rules by enjoying the hot tub with a gorgeous guest.”
I’m taken aback at his admission, never having imagined a scenario where he wasn’t a corporate guy, or a surgeon, or maybe even a pilot. Not that it matters, it’s just… At first glance, there was something about him, from his gorgeous face to the perfectly manicured nails, that exudes wealth.
I knew the type, and he fits the bill perfectly. Or so I’d thought. I mean, what kinda guy who works at the beach worries about his nails? Apparently, my initial reaction was wrong.
“Wait…what?” I ask, slightly perturbed that my one shot at a little fun isn’t going to pan out the way I wanted. I’m guessing there’s some kind of conflict of interest since he’s an employee and will most likely not be fucking my brains out in the next thirty minutes.
He has the decency to look sheepish. “I probably should’ve mentioned that in the beginning. I’m working here, learning the ropes during the off-season,” he responds as I take a drink, and his nonchalance is…rather irritating.
I nearly spew rum and Coke in his face. Yes, his face, because those faint little movements have finally brought him right next to me, no space left between his thigh and mine.
“You?” I ask, perusing his body under the water now that he’s up close and personal.
Huh. An employee. It takes me entirely off guard, and I’ve realized I misjudged him.
I take a moment to check out the entire package he’s offering. He has noticeable rock-hard abs rippling under the water. Tight trunks cover thick thighs, and his pecs… God, those pecs are heavenly. I’m afforded an up-close-and-personal view of my favorite sight. Then his tight, hard nipples catch my attention, a droplet of water dangling from one of their tips. A droplet of water that has my mouth suddenly parched and aching to devour it.
His lips quirk up in that spectacular grin I’ve grown to adore in such a short time. An eyebrow cocks in my direction. “What’s the matter, sunshine? Too good to slum it with the pool boy?”
My cheeks flush with heat. And then, for some reason, desire turns into embarrassment, which turns into shame-filled anger. This guy, this pool boy, is just messing with me, and considering I thought I was going to get laid, I don’t like it one freaking bit. But he continues, not letting me get a word in.
“Let me guess. You’re probably about twenty-three, a born-and-bred Southern Georgian belle.”
I frown, and he chuckles.
“It’s the accent, sunshine. Sweet like a Georgia peach. You’re here looking for a little fun with a bad boy before you go and either work for Daddy’s business or settle for the blue blood he’s chosen for you.”
I nearly gasp because he basically described Ariana, my parents’ life plan for her, and the idiot she’s engaged to. He described the exact woman I’m not and never want to be. It’s a good thing this guy works at a beach resort and not at a carnival where he makes money by guessing life stories. The quick turn from a flirtatious pursuit to him judging me so mistakenly infuriates me.
Indignant, I stand, placing my hands firmly on my hips. I try—and fail—to ignore the way his eyes rake over my body to take in the sight of me wet. And hell, if nipples affect him as much as they do me, he’s getting quite a show. But I don’t care. I’m too pissed that his remarks hit too close to home.
“For your information, Shane, I’ll be twenty-five next month. I graduated with my MBA just two weeks ago—summa cum laude, mind you. I’ll be starting in a new position with one of the most influential conglomerates in the country. No, the world, after the new year. Not because of my father, not because of my last name, but because of my own merit and qualifications. I will not be working with my father. I will not marry a man just because he deems it a good match. You know nothing about me; your presumptions are inaccurate and downright insulting.”
He doesn’t say a word, so I continue. “And for your information, Miss Cleo, it doesn’t matter where I came from. When I do find a man, he could be a plumber or a teacher or a mailman for all I care. He can be a bad boy, or he can be the sweetest man alive. The only qualifications he’ll need are to be honest, loyal, and killer in the sack and to love me the same way I’ll love him—for me, flaws and all. So fucking nice to meet you, Shane. Have a great life.”
My diatribe ends with a huff. This man, gorgeous and enticing as
he may be, deserves nothing more from me, and even though I had higher hopes for the end of this evening, I’m not sticking around for his rebuttal.
Before he can respond, I exit the hot tub and march towards my lounge chair. One-night stand be damned.
I have no idea why our innocent flirtation turned into some weird sort of judgment. With an angry and alcohol-addled brain, I’m twisting into my clothes when I realize, unfortunately, the pool boy, Shane, is persisting. He calls out my name, but I ignore him. I start heading inside, but he catches up with me and grabs my elbow.
Ignoring the electricity from his touch, I whirl around, seething. “What now? What could you possibly want with someone like the woman you think I am? After all, to you, I’m a spoiled, selfish, undeserving offspring who will be either handed a silver spoon or passed along to the best suitor. I am not that girl. I pick who I want, except you know what? Tonight, I was going to pick you. I wanted to screw you,” I say, poking his bare chest with my finger, watching his eyes widen, “so maybe there is something wrong with my…my…my picker!”
I search his eyes, waiting for him to agree with me or apologize. Nope. He doesn’t even appear the slightest bit sheepish or apologetic. Instead, he aims that grin down at me, cocky, and something inside me begins to stir again.
No, Alyssa, no. Down, girl, I warn myself. Just because he’s six foot something of lean, taut muscle, with unruly chestnut-brown hair and beautiful, blue eyes a girl could melt into doesn’t mean he’s the guy for you. Even just for tonight. No, don’t go there, I tell myself.
I don’t listen. I’m so going there. Because, as he stares down at me, I have the urge to squeeze my thighs together, and there’s no way my fingers will give me the pleasure I’m so desperately seeking right now.
“Hey, I’m sorry,” he says, and yep, there goes the last little bit of my resolve. Because an apology is sexy coming from any man, especially a stranger. “I was wrong. Presumptuous. A total bastard. About your dad, marriage, all that.” Then he leans in so close that his breath is a sweet whisper against my lips. “But you didn’t refute that you were looking for a bad boy.”