Beach Bar Baby

by Heidi Rice

  Because I’m a little concerned you might have a borderline personality disorder.

  * * *

  She came here to see you. You dumbass.

  Warmth spread across Cooper’s chest like a shot of hard liquor but was tempered by a harsh jolt of regret as he registered the wary caution in Ella’s eyes—which looked even bigger accented with the glittery powder. Her lips pursed, glossy with lipstick in the half-light, as if she were determined to stop them trembling, crucifying him.

  What the hell were you thinking? Behaving like such a jerk?

  Even he wasn’t sure what had gripped him when he’d walked into the bar and spotted her chatting with Henry, with that flushed excitement on her face. But the word that had echoed through his head had been unmistakable.

  Mine.

  And then everything had gone straight to hell.

  Of course, his crazy reaction might have had something to do with the severe case of sexual frustration he’d been riding ever since she’d stepped aboard the boat that morning, but that hardly excused it. And the truth was he’d been handling it just fine, until the moment she’d handed him that wad of bills on the dock.

  That was the precise moment he’d lost his grip on reality.

  He’d been snarky and rude, acting as if she’d offered to kick him in the nuts, instead of giving him a forty-dollar tip.

  He accepted tips all the time, to hand over to the kids who crewed the boat. Just the way Sonny had done for him when he was a kid.

  He’d founded his business on the generosity of tourists like May Preston and her husband, who came back every year and always showed their appreciation way above the going rate. But when Ella had done the same, somehow he’d lost it. Instead of seeing her generosity and thoughtfulness for what it was, he’d been thrown back in time to the humiliation of his high-school days and the never-ending stream of dead-end jobs he’d taken on to keep him and his mom afloat. Back then, his teenage pride had taken a hit every time he had to accept a gratuity from people he knew talked trash about his mom behind his back. But he’d brushed that huge chip off his shoulder years ago, or at least he’d thought he had.

  Why the weight of the damn thing had reappeared at that precise moment and soured his final few moments with Ella, he didn’t have a clue, and he didn’t plan to examine it too closely. All that mattered now was that he didn’t blow his second chance with her.

  That she’d come down to The Rum Runner at his suggestion was one hell of a balm to his over-touchy ego. The least he could do now was show her a good time. And given how cute and sexy she looked in those hip-hugger jeans and that skimpy tank it wasn’t exactly going to be a hardship.

  He raked his hand through his hair, trying to grab hold of some of his usual charm with women, and think of how best to engineer his way back into her good graces after acting like such a douche.

  Then he recalled how she’d been moving that lush butt while chatting to Henry, rocking her hips in time to the music. His pal Oggie’s band played the opening sax solo, backed by the manic drum beat, of their best dance track. And he hoped he had his answer.

  ‘You can’t go back to the hotel. Not before you’ve danced to some real Bermuda soca with me.’

  ‘I don’t know...’

  She glanced back at the bar, but he could hear her hesitation.

  ‘Sure you do. It’ll be fun.’ He took her hand, lifted it to his lips and buzzed a quick kiss across her knuckles. ‘You’ve come all this way. And I’ve acted like a jerk. So I owe you.’

  ‘That’s really not necessary.’ She chewed on her bottom lip, the indecision in her voice crucifying him a little more.

  ‘Sure it is. One dance. By way of an apology? That’s all I’m asking.’

  The shy smile was enough to tell him she’d forgiven him. But the sparkle of anticipation was tempered by caution. ‘Okay, I don’t see how one dance could hurt.’

  ‘Awesome.’ He placed his hand on her waist to direct her back into the bar, the spike of lust making his throat go dry when her hip bumped his thigh.

  ‘It may be thirsty work, though,’ she shouted above the bump and grind of drums and bass. ‘Perhaps I should go back and get my Rum Swizzle?’

  ‘Let’s work up a sweat first,’ he said, placing firm hands on her hips as he slotted them both into the packed dancefloor, the sweat already slick on his forehead. ‘I’ll buy you one later.’

  Dancing with her was bound to be really thirsty work, but he didn’t plan to let her have any more Rum Swizzles. Those damn things were lethal, especially on an empty stomach—and with her tiny frame and that little stumble at the bar after only half a glass, he would hazard a guess Ella Radley was a really cheap drunk. He wanted her fully conscious for the rest of the night, so he could enjoy her company—and anything else she wanted to offer him.

  Her perfume—a refreshing mix of citrus and spices—drifted over him as she placed her hands lightly on his shoulders and rolled her hips to the riotous bass beat in a natural, unaffected rhythm that was more seductive than original sin.

  She grinned up at him, the cute smile a tempting mix of innocence and provocation, then jerked up on her toes to shout in his ear. ‘Aye-aye, Captain. But be warned. I’m on a mission tonight to get whatever I want.’

  His hands tightened on her hips as her belly bumped against him and his groin throbbed in time to the music. ‘Not a problem, sweetheart.’

  Because so am I.

  * * *

  ‘That’s enough of that.’ Coop lifted the sunshine drink out of her hand and held it easily out of reach. ‘I want you able to walk out of here.’

  Ella sent him a mock pout, but couldn’t disguise her happiness as his gaze settled on her face. The way it had been doing all evening, with a gratifying combination of possessiveness and desire.

  They’d danced until they were breathless to the band’s medley of soca anthems, then eased into the seductive moves of the soul tunes when they slowed the pace later in the evening.

  It was well after midnight now, and the bar had begun to empty out. His large group of friends, most of whom had come over to their table to banter with Coop or introduce themselves to her, had mostly drifted away, leaving only a small group of die-hard couples on the dance floor still bumping and grinding with gusto and a scatter of people by the bar.

  She’d danced with a few of the other guys, enjoying that relaxed, casual camaraderie that reminded her of her own friendship group back in Camden. But most of all she’d enjoyed the feel of Cooper’s gaze on her throughout the evening—that said to everyone they were a couple. That—how had he put it?—she was with him, for the night. It had made her feel as if she belonged here, even though she was thousands of miles from home.

  But more than that, his constant attention and that quick easy smile had both relaxed her and yet held a delicious tension, a promise of what was to come. Because she had no doubts whatsoever about where this was all headed. The smouldering looks, the proprietary touches, the irresistible scent of him, tangy and salty and spicy, wrapping around her in a potent blend of pheromones and sweat. And the delicious press of his erection outlined by the slow, seductive, sinuous moves of his muscular body as they danced.

  The coil of desire had been pulsing in the pit of her stomach for hours now. Ready for him to make the next move—and if he didn’t, she was ready to take the unprecedented step of making the move for him.

  It was official. Ella Radley’s flirt was now fully operational, the intoxicating buzz of the Rum Swizzles nothing compared to the glorious buzz of anticipation.

  ‘And where exactly would I be walking to?’ She arched an eyebrow, her tone rich with a confidence she’d thought had died inside her a lifetime ago.

  His thumb brushed her cheek, his irises a mesmerising moss green in the bar’s half-light. Resting his fore
head on hers, he closed his fingers over her nape, that wandering thumb caressing the frantic pulse in her neck. ‘My hut’s down at the other end of the cove. You ready to take a stroll with me in the moonlight?’

  It was the invitation she’d been waiting for, but the surge of excitement still made her giddy. She could already feel those rough, capable fingers on the slick flesh between her thighs. She wanted to taste him, touch him, inhale that delicious scent, and take the impressive ridge in his pants inside her. Her sex clasped and released, hollow and aching with the need to be filled.

  Touching her lips to his, she licked across the seam of the wide, sensual mouth that had been driving her wild all day. The shot of adrenaline was as stimulating as the pulse of reaction when she heard him drag in a ragged breath. His fingers plunged into her hair, then clasped her head so his tongue could plunder.

  She let him in, her tongue duelling with his as they sank into the ravenous kiss.

  He broke away first, the pants of his breathing as thready as her own. ‘I’m going to take that as a yes.’

  She nodded, not sure she could speak around the joy closing off her throat.

  Standing, he gripped her hand and hauled her out of her chair. He tossed a few dollars on the table, and sent Henry a parting salute. She waved her own goodbye at the barman, who was stacking glasses, a rueful smile on his face.

  ‘See you around, pretty lady.’ Henry waved back, shouting over the murmur of goodbyes being thrown their way by the bar’s other remaining patrons. ‘And don’t you be doing anything I wouldn’t, Coop.’

  Coop dragged her outside, sending her a wicked grin over his shoulder as the night closed over them. ‘Given what you would do, man,’ he whispered for her ears alone, ‘that gives me a hell of a lot of options.’

  For some strange reason she found the comment riotously funny, her chuckle blending with the fading beat of music and the sound of the rolling and retreating tide as they stepped off the deck onto the beach. He laid his arm across her shoulders, tugged her into his side to lead her along the sand and into the darkness.

  Crickets and night crawlers added an acoustic accompaniment to the flickering light of the fireflies in the undergrowth and the hushed lap of the water. She kicked off her sandals, picked them up, and let her toes seep into the damp sand.

  The walk in the moonlight he’d promised went past in a blur, neither of them speaking, the only sound the sea, the insects and the rhythmic bump of her own heartbeat. A one-storey shack raised over the beach on a wraparound deck appeared as if by magic out of the undergrowth on the edge of the sand. A lamp suspended from the porch rail shone like a homing beacon, illuminating the rudimentary clapboard structure.

  He dropped his arm from around her shoulders, to lace his fingers through hers and lead her up the steps onto the porch.

  ‘You live here?’ she asked, enchanted by the spartan dwelling.

  ‘Yeah, mostly.’ He held open the screen door to reveal a large, sparsely furnished, but tidy room. A sofa with well-worn cushions made up the living area, while a large mattress, the sheets neatly folded across the bottom, stood in front of the open deck. A tiny kitchenette cordoned off by a waist-high counter took up the hut’s back wall, next to a door that she deduced must lead to a bathroom.

  But it was the open deck, blending the hut’s interior with the beach outside, that took her breath away. The silvery glow of the moon dipped over the horizon, shimmering over the water and making the dark sand look as if it disappeared into oblivion. The fresh scent of sea and salt and exotic blooms only added to the feeling of wild, untamed freedom that was so like Cooper himself.

  ‘It suits you,’ she said.

  He huffed, the half-laugh both wry and amused. ‘Why? Because it’s cheap?’ he said and she heard the cynical edge.

  ‘No, because it’s charming and unpretentious and unconventional.’

  He turned up the lamp, giving the modest hut a golden glow.

  Walking to the open deck, he closed two large shutters and then slid the screen door across, cocooning them in together against the Caribbean night. Only the sparkle of moonlight and the sound of surf and chirping insects seeped through the slats.

  ‘Don’t want to risk getting our butts bitten off by mosquitos,’ he said, crossing the short distance back to her.

  She laughed, the rough stubble on his jaw ticklish against her neck as he gripped her hips and nuzzled the sensitive skin beneath her ear.

  ‘Especially such a cute butt,’ he added, giving the butt in question an appreciative squeeze.

  She wrapped her arms around his lean waist and slipped her fingers beneath the waistband of his jeans, to caress the tight muscles of the backside she had admired that morning in wet denim. ‘I can totally get behind that sentiment.’

  He chuckled, warm, callused palms sneaking under her camisole to glide up to her ribcage and send a series of tremors through her body.

  ‘Flattery will get you everywhere,’ he said. Before placing his mouth on hers at last.

  Releasing his bum, she lifted arms lethargic with lust and draped them over his broad shoulders; driving her fingers into the soft curls at his nape, she let him devour her. He angled his hips and the thick ridge in his pants rubbed against her belly.

  Oh, yes, I want this so much.

  To be taken, to take. She wanted to let her body do the asking and have his answer, in the primordial mating ritual of two animals in need of an endorphin fix. The fact that she liked him, that he seemed a genuinely nice guy, didn’t hurt. But right here, right now, as the building firestorm made the pulsing ache in her sex unbearable, and her nipples tighten into hard, swollen nubs, all she really cared about was satisfying the driving hunger.

  His large hands rose from her waist to frame her face and she revelled in the primitive need making his eyes darken and the muscle in his jaw flex and release.

  ‘Before we take this any further...’ he trapped her against the hut’s wall, the heavy ridge thickening even more ‘...I need to know if you’re on the pill.’

  Crushing disappointment cut through the fog of rum and arousal. ‘You don’t have any condoms? I don’t either, I didn’t think—’

  ‘Hey, don’t panic,’ he interrupted. ‘I’ve got condoms.’

  ‘Oh, thank God.’ Relief gushed like molten lava between her thighs.

  ‘But I’m a belt and braces kind of guy. Condoms break.’ He scooped her hair off her neck, pressed those clever lips to her collarbone, shattering her concentration. ‘That’s how I happened. I’m not looking to father another me.’

  She heard the note of regret, and had the sudden urge to soothe. ‘But you’re so beautiful.’ She cradled his lean cheeks between her palms, drew her thumb over one tawny brow and grinned into those piercing emerald eyes—which had crinkled at the corners with amusement. ‘Your mother must have been so pleased to have you,’ she said, loving the rasp of the manly stubble on his cheeks as all her inhibitions happily dissolved in the sweet buzz of Rum Swizzles and pheromones. ‘Even if you were an accident.’

  She heard his chuckle. Had she said something funny? She hadn’t meant to.

  ‘Not really.’ He sent her the secret hey-there-gorgeous grin that he’d sent her when they were underwater and exploring the reef. Then it had flattered her, as if they were the only two people in the whole ocean allowed to explore its treasures; now it made her heart muscle squeeze and release, exciting her.

  ‘Has anyone ever told you you’re great for a guy’s ego when you’re hammered?’

  ‘I’m not hammered,’ she said, sure she wasn’t. He’d only let her have two more Rum Swizzles, which he’d insisted on mixing himself behind the bar. And they hadn’t tasted nearly as alcoholic as that first one. Plus she’d pigged out on the popcorn shrimp, some delicious jalapeño cheese things and the chips and dips and othe
r nibbles that had appeared at their table as if by magic between dance sets. Right now she was pleasantly buzzed, but her senses felt heightened, more acute, not dull or fuzzy.

  He touched his nose to hers. ‘If you say so, miz,’ he said in a perfect echo of Henry the friendly barman’s Bermudan accent.

  The spontaneous laugh turned to a staggered moan as his hands snuck under her camisole and cupped her breasts.

  ‘Oh, yes.’ She arched into the bold caress as his thumbs brushed her nipples, making the rigid peaks ache. ‘That feels fabulous.’

  He laughed. ‘Stop distracting me and answer the damn question.’

  She opened her mouth to ask what question, but then he plucked at one pulsating nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, and all that came out was a groaned, ‘Yes.’

  ‘Hallelujah.’

  His teasing fingers left her breast to drag her top over her head. And unclip the hook of her bra. He tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it over his shoulder, revealing the naked chest that she’d imagined touching all day.

  Hallelujah indeed.

  He boosted her into his arms, her back bumping the wall, as he wedged the hard ridge between her thighs, pressing it against the damp gusset of her jeans. She gripped his shoulders, her head spinning from the sensory overload. Then he ducked his head to capture one thrusting nipple between his lips and suckled hard.

  Fire roared down to her core and she writhed, swivelling her hips to increase the pressure of his magnificent erection on that hot, sweet, swollen spot.

  He blew across her wet breast, the cool air making it tingle and tighten more. ‘Damn, but you’re gorgeous.’

  ‘So are you,’ she said, admiring the bulge of his biceps as he held her up, the bunched pecs and sculpted abs, and the happy trail that bloomed into a forest of dark blond curls where his low-slung jeans had slipped down under the pressure of her clutching thighs.