by Regina Cole
Maybe Greg had been right. Maybe she wasn’t good for him. But despite his assertions that all he’d wanted was some fun on vacation, he really didn’t have any intention of leaving her alone afterward.
Aw, hell, who was he kidding. He was going to keep chasing her. She’d gotten under his skin, and he couldn’t scrub her away. Didn’t want to.
Maybe it was for the best. A little chase added spice, right?
He gave a small smile as he entered the main hotel building and headed toward his room. Tomorrow was another day, and she couldn’t stay mad at him forever.
10
When Eliza’s hotel room door shut behind her, she finally let herself breathe.
What had she been thinking? God, there could have been kids on that trail. There were families at this resort, after all. But her libido had overcome her good sense, and then her worries had flown like water over a falls.
She pressed her palms against her heaving chest. She’d done it this time. Asking him to tie her up? Spank her? Had she learned nothing from fucking up with Tyler?
“Suck it up, Jackson.” Her voice sounded loud in the empty room. “You’ve got to get ready for Bree’s party.”
Shedding her dress and still-damp panties, she made her way to the bathroom. Turning the knob all the way to cold was an exercise in self-flagellation. A small shriek escaped her as she stepped into the icy spray. Her teeth chattered as she soaped up quickly.
Even though the cold was distracting, it still wasn’t enough to keep her brain from reviewing the last hour. Tyler’s phone call had rocked her, that was for sure. Ever since they’d broken up, he’d gone out of his way to avoid her at work, a fact for which she was grateful. His dad owned the company, and Tyler had only joined up after his Internet start-up had bit the dust. Never really interested in chemistry, Tyler held a managerial position that had nothing to do with his abilities and everything to do with the fact he was a spoiled brat. Of course, she reported to him. If not for the fact that she loved her job, and Quality was the only company within an hour’s drive that would allow her to do the work she loved best, she’d have quit a long time ago.
She sniffed. The cold was making her nose run. Better rinse off quickly and get out.
Wincing as the cold water hit her sensitive nether regions, she shivered. Her escapades with Chandler came to mind. He’d heard some of what she’d said to Tyler. He’d snooped, basically, and come way too close to the truth. That was unacceptable. Of course, she hadn’t known that when she basically asked him to treat her as his personal sex slave. Would it have mattered?
The faucet squeaked as she killed the flow. Probably. Maybe not, though. Her sex drive had a habit of wrecking her common sense. Thus, the whole issue with Tyler.
Her hands shook with cold as she reached for the fluffy white towel on the rack above the toilet. She’d always thought that you were supposed to communicate with your lover, tell them what you liked, what you were into. That was the way to have good sex, right?
It had backfired majorly with Tyler. Oh, he’d been okay with it at first. The tamer stuff, at least. The dirty talk, spanking, those things he was fine with. But when she’d really opened up to him, he’d looked at her like she had two heads. He’d been her first real relationship, and it had blown up in her face. But apparently she hadn’t learned her lesson enough, because she was making the same mistakes with Chandler.
“Nope. This is just a sexy vacation fling. Nothing more,” she said as she pulled the closet’s trifold door open.
Maybe tonight at the bachelorette party, she’d find someone else to have fun with. Maybe that was the answer—get Chandler off her mind. He’d been sweet to her, but that was no reason to become overly attached.
She dressed in black shorts and a sparkly silver tank. Black flip-flops with rhinestone straps would allow her newly painted toes to dry during dinner. Her makeup didn’t take long since she didn’t wear much. Stacey had made the reservations this afternoon, so all she had to do was show up downstairs.
It was a little too early to go down, but what could she do? Standing there and staring into the mirror was starting to make her crazy.
She flipped through the TV channels, but nothing caught her interest. She’d been stuck on her current level of Candy Crush for the last two weeks, and she wasn’t really into the idea of trying and failing five more times. The book she’d brought had lost her interest.
“It’s not that early,” she reasoned, tucking her ID, credit card, and some cash into her front pocket. “I can take a walk on the beach if nobody’s waiting yet.”
The thought that she might run into Chandler made her pause, but just for a second. There must be hundreds of people staying in this building. The chances of running into him had to be slim, right? And she couldn’t spend the rest of her vacation avoiding him, not with them both in the wedding.
The door clicked shut behind her and she took a steadying breath as she walked to the elevators. She’d be fine. There was nothing to be afraid of. Embarrassed? Okay, maybe a little, but fear? No way.
He was big, strong, and sexy, but not scary.
A family of five was crowded into the elevator that stopped on her floor, and Eliza smiled and waved them on.
“I’ll wait for the next one,” she said. “I’m a little claustrophobic.”
The tall man near the door laughed, and pushed the Door Close button. Once the elevator was on its way down, she pushed the button again. One of the six had to be nearby. And hell, it wasn’t like she was in a hurry anyway.
She had plenty of time to regret her decision, though, because the elevator that stopped next had Chandler, Gregory, and two other groomsmen inside it.
Shit.
“It’s okay, I’ll grab the next one,” she said with a nervous wave. “I’m a little claustrophobic.”
“It’s okay, there’s plenty of room,” Chandler said, scooting Gregory over to the side. Now close to half the elevator was empty. “Come on in.”
“No, it’s fine,” she protested, but it didn’t do any good. Chandler held the door open with a broad palm, waiting for her to get on.
“Bossy,” she muttered beneath her breath as she entered and stood in the cleared space. Which just happened to be next to Chandler.
He poked her in the side, a gentle, teasing poke. Obviously he’d heard her. She didn’t give a damn. He was being bossy.
But you told him you liked that. You wanted him to tie you up and spank you and tell you what to do.
If she could kick her subconscious in the teeth she would have, but she settled for biting the inside of her lip and staring at the elevator’s tiny black screen as the floors counted down.
“You look nice,” Gregory observed from the corner behind her. Startled, she gave him a small smile.
“Thanks.”
“Hot date tonight?”
Chandler made a strangled noise at Gregory’s question, but Eliza didn’t bat an eye.
“Yup. Bree and I picked up some surfers on the beach this morning. They’re taking us out for drinks and wild monkey sex.”
The younger of the two groomsmen, Sabrina’s brother Brent, laughed aloud. “Is that before or after they take you windsurfing?”
“We’re going kiteboarding instead. More upper body strength required.”
Brent snorted. “Good one, Liza.”
“Thanks, Brent. If you’ll excuse me.” The doors thankfully hissed open, and she exited with her head held high.
She halfway hoped that Chandler believed she was going out with some other guy. And a slightly bigger half hoped that he’d be jealous as fuck.
So much for her fling idea. She really was a petty bitch when she thought about it.
“Hey, Eliza, over here.”
She’d never been so happy to see a familiar face in her life. At least if she was with Stacey, Chandler couldn’t follow her and try to confuse her again.
It really was for the best that they stay away from one anothe
r. Really. And if she said it to herself enough times, maybe she’d start to believe it.
Stacey was seated on a long, plush bench beneath the map of the resort. She was wearing a dress with sleeves that came down to her elbows. It was actually a much more flattering cut than the one she’d worn last night.
“You look nice,” Eliza said, sinking onto the bench next to her.
“Aw, thanks. I doubt anyone will look twice at me tonight. I mean, check you out.” Stacey mimed drawing an hourglass figure in the air and whistled.
“Thanks, but I bet Bree will put us both to shame.”
“You’re probably right.” Stacey’s sigh was a little more dejected than the situation warranted, but before Eliza could ask her about it, a guy cleared his throat in front of them.
“Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?”
Chandler. She just couldn’t get rid of the guy. And she was trying. Really. Sort of.
He’d been following the others out to the parking lot, but something had stopped him in his tracks. Well, not something. Someone. Eliza had looked so fucking hot, her legs tanned and long in those shorts, those silver spangles making her skin glow. He was 99 percent sure she was teasing about meeting up with surfers, but his testosterone overrode his good sense and he couldn’t stop the thought from gnawing at his frontal lobe like a Doberman with a rib eye.
“I’ll catch up with you guys in a minute,” Chandler said, patting his pocket. “Forgot my wallet, got to run back upstairs and get it.”
“Want us to walk with you?” Greg said, arching a brow at Chandler.
“No, really. Grab the car, I’ll be right there.”
Chandler walked away before anyone else could volunteer to walk him to his room. She couldn’t have gotten far; in fact, he didn’t even think she’d exited the building behind them.
“Jackpot,” he whispered before pushing open the glass doors. She was sitting with that girl who’d been at the table with them last night, Bree’s maid of honor. They looked to be deep in conversation.
Oh well. He didn’t have the time to be especially polite. He cleared his throat, and she looked up.
“Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?”
He wasn’t sure if her expression was excited or exasperated, it changed so quickly. In the end, though, her mouth settled into a flat line and her eyes went curiously blank.
“Sure, go ahead.” Her voice was a little cool. Okay, that stung.
“I can give you guys some privacy,” Eliza’s companion said, her light blue gaze darting from Chandler to Eliza and back again.
“No, it’s okay, you don’t have to go,” Eliza interjected quickly, grabbing the girl’s arm before she could rise from the bench.
“Yeah,” Chandler said, fighting the urge to put his hands in his pockets. What was he, a damn teenager? “I just wondered what you were doing later tonight. Maybe you and I could go get a drink after dinner.”
“Sorry, I think we’re going to be out pretty late.” Eliza tightened her grip on her friend’s arm, who winced like she was in pain. Actually, maybe she was. Eliza’s nails seemed to be digging too sharply into her friend’s skin.
“Well, hey, let me get your phone number, and maybe we can meet up tomorrow.”
“The rehearsal’s tomorrow. I’ll be helping decorate and stuff most of the day.”
Disappointment flooded him, but before he could say so, she broke in again.
“But maybe I’ll see you at the rehearsal dinner?” As she said it, her gaze raked over him as it had last night.
It was a tiny rope Eliza threw him, but he’d take it. And besides, the unwilling third wheel of their conversation looked like she’d rather be sinking into the floor. Out of deference to her—he’d been stuck as wingman for Gregory a lot in his lifetime, so he knew what it was like—he’d let the nebulous promise of the rehearsal dinner see him through the night.
“Okay,” he said with a smile. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow night then, if not before. And I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name?” He spoke to the girl next to Eliza, who’d extricated her arm and was rubbing the tiny marks Eliza’s nails had made in the pale skin of her forearm.
“Who me? Oh, I’m Stacey. Stacey Hough, Sabrina’s cousin.” She talked fast, in a high-pitched nervous tone.
“It’s good to meet you,” Chandler said, hoping his smile was warm and comforting. “See you tomorrow?”
“S . . . sure,” Stacey stammered, looking over at Eliza as if questioning.
With a casual wave, Chandler turned and sauntered toward the door. A stinging, burning sensation bloomed in his back, as if Eliza’s hungry stare was boring a hole in him.
God, he wished he could blow off the bachelor party and take her upstairs. But Greg was counting on him tonight. Damn it.
But he’d take care of Eliza later. Things between them were too delicious to ignore.
“That was quick,” Gregory said when Chandler reached the car. He gave his friend an odd look. “You went all the way back to your room?”
“The elevator was still there,” Chandler lied smoothly. “No waiting. So, guys, you ready to head out?”
Brent tossed him the keys to the rental car he’d acquired that afternoon. They’d discussed just grabbing a cab, but with the four of them there, it had seemed more reasonable to drive on their own. Especially since Brent didn’t drink. Something about weak kidneys, if Chandler remembered correctly.
“You show me where we’re going, and I’ll be able to get back no problem.”
“Sure, my GPS will get us there,” Chandler said as he opened the driver’s side door to the silver BMW. “Pretty nice wheels here, B.”
“They gave me a free upgrade when they heard we were going out on a bachelor party night. I’d asked for the shittiest minivan they had.”
“You would,” Greg said, giving his soon-to-be brother-in-law a good-natured punch to the shoulder. “Asshole.”
“Easy, guys,” Randy, the last groomsman, said. “The night is young. I don’t want to have to turn you in to the cops so soon.”
The ignition turned smoothly, a soft dinging sounding through the sleek interior. Chandler cut his eyes in the rearview mirror at Randy. “If anyone gets called, it’ll be your ass first. I told you, I’m not interested in whatever it is you’re doing back there.”
Randy had a past with drugs, despite his longtime friendship with Gregory. So the idea that there were narcotics in the car wasn’t really that far-fetched.
“Ease off him, Chandler. I told you, he’ll behave himself,” Greg said, flattening his palm on the center console. “Come on, it’s my last night of freedom. Let’s grab a beer before I come to my senses and hop the first plane out of here.”
A chorus of cheers met Greg’s statement, and Chandler steered the car onto the street in front of the resort.
The restaurant they’d chosen was about ten minutes away, a Brazilian steakhouse. After that, they’d take in a movie, because as Brent had said, there was no need to hit the strip club before 11 p.m. Their table was reserved until one, and if they felt like it after that, there was a dance club just next door to the strip joint.
All in all, it should be an excellent evening. For Gregory and the rest of the guys, it probably would be. And if Chandler could stop thinking about how gorgeous Eliza had looked in those short-shorts and sparkly tank, he’d probably have a good time, too.
But the thought of stuffing dollar bills in a stranger’s G-string didn’t have the appeal it normally would. And he was fairly certain he knew why.
“It’s too quiet in here,” Brent said, leaning up between the front seats. “Greg, put on some tunes.”
“Sure,” said the man of the evening, grinning as he punched the Power button.
Fortunately, with the deep bass surrounding them, Chandler could let his memory wander where it wanted. Which just happened to be straight back to that private trail through the greenery.
Damn. She’d been upset when he’d fou
nd her, and it seemed that every bit of that emotion had turned to lust when he bent close to her. He wasn’t complaining, not at all. She’d been more open and honest with him while they were in the midst of making love than she’d ever been with him. But why did she shy away from spending time with him outside of the bedroom? Well, hammock, or bedroom, or even semi-secluded jungle trail. It was like sex released her, let her loose and made her free. Once it was done, it was like someone pulled the plug on the light that belonged inside her. She withdrew from him, hid herself away.
When they had sex, she was even more beautiful than normal. Sex really did showcase the beauty she was, the honest, passionate woman who lived behind the mask. Why hide all that?
“Hey, Chandler, wasn’t that the restaurant?” Brent tapped him on the shoulder.
“Oh shit, yeah. Sorry, I’ll make a U-turn at the next light.”
Damn it. This was Greg’s night. He had to pull his head out of his ass so his cousin could enjoy tonight.
His confusion could wait.
11
The music was so loud Eliza swore she could taste it. Or was that the fourth cosmopolitan she’d had since arriving at this club? She wasn’t sure. Either way it seemed to be a sharp, exciting taste. Like possibilities, or future lovers, or even making up for past mistakes. She hadn’t thought of Chandler more than six times in the past hour. Which was a much better average than she’d had during bridal party pedicures, or dinner, or the first club they’d been to.
“Hey, Stace, need a refill?” Bree yelled to be heard over the newest club beat. She held up her empty cocktail glass, the gold and white “Single today, Bride tomorrow” sash glinting as she wiggled to the music. “I’m buying!”
“Seriously, stop it. Between you and Eliza, I’m going to be completely hammered.” Stacey laughed, her eyes sparkling in the glow of the black lights above. “I’ve already had enough. Just a water for me.”
Bree pouted. “You sure? I’ve just got you two to celebrate with, you know, since Rachel’s pregnant. My bridesmaid posse is incomplete. I won’t even get to see her until the rehearsal tomorrow.”