Dating the Enemy

by Amber Page

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing? You want me to do nothing?” Her body burned with anger. She wanted to hit him, or kick him, or … or … She picked up a handful of sand and threw it at him.

  “Take that!” she shouted, and reached down to grab another handful, which she threw at him with all her might. “And that!”

  Unfortunately the sand was dry, so her weapon dissipated into a cloud of dust before it ever reached him.

  “Arrrggghhh!” she shrieked, too angry to form words.

  Nick smiled at her. “You’re doing it wrong.”

  “What?”

  “You’re doing it wrong. If you want to pelt me with sand you need to go where the sand is wet, so you can mold it like a snowball. Here—let me show you.”

  He ran down to the wet sand at the water’s edge and patted a ball of sand together in his hands. Then he wound his arm up in classic pitcher’s style and lobbed it at her.

  It hit her square in the face before she had time to duck. For a moment she stood stock-still, too shocked to move. Then the rage returned, and before she realized what she was doing she was running down the beach at him, shrieking incoherently. As she approached she tucked her head down and aimed for his chest—just as the high school football player she had once dated had taught her.

  She barreled into him and they both went down in a tangle of arms and legs. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” she shouted, pummeling his chest with her fists.

  “No, you don’t.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I said, no. You don’t.”

  The sheer audacity of the statement stopped her cold. How could he say that? Didn’t he know what he’d done to her? She was still goggling at him when he grabbed her hands and neatly flipped her over, pinning her in the sand.

  “You don’t hate me. And you shouldn’t. I have no intention of ‘screwing you over,’ as my father suggested. He is a clueless old man who insists on believing he still knows what’s what. But he doesn’t. And I don’t listen to him.”

  “Why should I believe you?”

  He grinned. “Because if I was going to screw you over you would feel it when I did this.”

  Keeping her hands pinned, he claimed her lips for his own with a kiss that demanded she respond. For a moment she resisted. Refused to give him what he wanted. But he kept nibbling, and sucking, and demanding she give in.

  Desire rushed through her lips and infected every part of her body until every single skin cell vibrated with want. Hating herself for doing so, she opened her mouth, letting his tongue invade. His appreciation rumbled through her chest and something primitive inside her roared to life. Her anger mixed with want, creating an explosive ball of need.

  She wrapped her legs around him, wordlessly showing him what she wanted, but when her hips rose up against his he just chuckled. Moments later, he broke off the kiss.

  “What are you doing?” she sputtered.

  “Keeping you from doing something you might regret.”

  “I won’t.” Her legs locked even tighter around him.

  “You will. This is a public beach and it’s one o’clock in the afternoon. I don’t want to have to call my father to bail us out of jail.”

  He had a point.

  Reluctantly, she unlaced her feet, letting her legs sprawl loosely in the sand. “Fine. Let go of me.”

  “Not until you admit you don’t hate me.”

  “I don’t hate you. I just hate the situation we’re in.”

  He sat up and stretched, then looked down at her with a grimace on his face. “I hate it too. I wish we could just enjoy each other.”

  Jessie’s lips turned down. “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  She sat up and dusted the sand off her arms. She needed to stop that line of thinking cold. “Don’t start wishing. Let’s just enjoy the time we have. It’s not like either of us is interested in anything long-term anyway. It’s just for the weekend, right?”

  He stared at her for a moment and then nodded his assent. “All right. What time does our flight leave tomorrow?”

  “Four-thirty, I think. Why?”

  “From now until four-thirty tomorrow neither one of us is allowed to mention Roar, Thornton, New York City, or even advertising. We are just two ordinary people, frolicking on the beach.”

  She snorted. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone use the word ‘frolicking’ outside of advertising.”

  “Well, whatever you want to call it. We are here—at the beach. I’m just an ordinary guy who thinks you’re fantastic, and you’re just a smart babe who has deigned to come away with me for the weekend. No one and nothing else matters. Deal?”

  She stuck her hand out. “Deal.”

  “Great. Then let’s go snorkeling.”

  They stayed out in the surf for hours, admiring the multicolored fish, chasing crabs, and once even petting a stingray. When at long last the sun began to set, they splashed out of the water hand in hand.

  Nick’s stomach growled. “What were you thinking of for dinner?”

  Jessie grinned. “I’ve got a treat in store for you.”

  “Uh-oh. What kind of treat? Do I have to catch my dinner with a paper clip and some silly string?”

  “Nope. But you might have to pay for it with a power ballad or two.”

  He groaned. “I think I’d rather try the silly string.”

  “Don’t be a wuss,” she said, throwing a T-shirt at him from the back of the golf cart.

  “I’m not. Just being realistic.”

  “You say realistic—I say wusstastic.”

  “Say that when I can reach you,” he said, grabbing at her bikini top.

  She giggled and danced to the other side of the golf cart, sliding into the driver’s seat. “Keep your hands to yourself and get in the cart. The dinner bus is leaving.”

  “All right, all right,” he fake grumbled as he climbed in. “But trust me when I tell you no one wants to hear me sing.”

  “We’ll see,” she said, and put the cart into gear.

  A few minutes later they rolled into what passed for a parking lot—a patch of bare sand where golf carts could congregate. There was no restaurant as he understood the term. Just a tiki hut that seemed to house the kitchen, a bunch of people seated at brightly colored picnic tables, and palm trees covered in fairy lights. A makeshift stage stood at one end of the beach, although at the moment a boom box on the tiki hut’s front counter provided the only source of music.

  A large white-haired woman wearing a pink and lime-green flamingo print maxi-dress came barreling toward them.

  “Jessie! You’re here!”

  Jessie’s eyes opened wide. “Mama Dora? But I haven’t seen you in fifteen years!”

  The woman swallowed Jessie up in a bear hug. “I know—and that’s thirteen years too many! Mimi told me you were coming.” She stepped back and looked Jessie over with a critical eye. “You, my dear, need to eat. Bellies aren’t supposed to be concave!”

  “I know. I’ve just been under a lot of stress.”

  “Well, now you’re with Mama Dora. And I’m going to fatten you up.”

  She was about to lead Jessie away when she noticed Nick standing there.

  “Is this your young man?”

  “Just for the weekend.” Jessie winked at Mama.

  She raised an eyebrow. “Welcome, welcome, Jessie’s young man for the weekend.”

  He grinned. “It’s Nick. And thank you.”

  “All right—no need to stand on ceremony. Let’s get you two seated so I can get some food into this girl.” She put one arm around both of them and led them to a lime-green picnic table under a palm tree. “Any food allergies I should know about?”

  They both shook their heads.

  “Good, good. Dinner will be out shortly.”

  She swept away as quickly as she had come. Nick raised an eyebrow at Jessie. “Don’t we get a menu?”

  “Nope. At Mama’
s you just eat what she gives you. But don’t worry. It’s always excellent.”

  Seconds later she was back. This time armed with a trash can lid full of food. “Here we are. Pulled pork, fresh conch, jicama slaw, and a pitcher of mango mamaritas.”

  “Mamaritas?” Jessie asked.

  “They’re like margaritas, but better. Eat up! Karaoke begins soon.”

  Nick swallowed. “There really is karaoke, huh?”

  Jessie laughed. “You bet. And dancing.”

  “Oh, boy. Forget eating up. I better drink up.”

  “Me too.”

  They ate in companionable silence, watching the other diners whoop it up. It was a colorful crowd, an even mix of senior citizens, honeymooners, and young families. They all had only one thing in common—they were having fun.

  “When I grow up this is what I want to do, I think,” Jessie said.

  “What? Eat?”

  “No. Own a place like this. Not necessarily on a beach, but a bar or a restaurant, or something, where the only requirement is to have fun. I’ll have karaoke every night and take the stage whenever I want to. Wouldn’t that be amazing?”

  He smiled at her. “I’m not sure if amazing is the word, but it does seem like something that would make you happy.”

  She nodded. “Actually, I’ve often thought about buying the Happy Hour.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The eighties club I took you to. Those are my people.”

  He remembered the way they had applauded for her. She’d been in her element there.

  “So why don’t you?”

  “Why don’t I what?”

  “Buy it.”

  She gave him a funny smile, pausing to finish her mamarita before answering. “My capital is currently all tied up in a little thing called Roar. As is my time.”

  “Well, if you would let me buy Roar …”

  She held up her hand. “Stop right there. We are not having this conversation right now.”

  He tried to think of something to say to that, but was spared by the screech of microphone feedback.

  “Whoops—sorry about that, folks!” Mama said. “But now that I’ve got your attention I’d like to invite a very special guest on stage. I haven’t seen her in more than a decade, but I’m guessing she still knows the words to this song.”

  Jessie squealed as the introductory chords played. “That’s my song!”

  “I know it is, dear. Now, get up here!” Mama said through the microphone.

  Jessie sprang up from her chair and danced toward the stage. Nick breathed a sigh of relief, thinking he was off the hook.

  But at the last minute she beckoned to him. “Come on, Nick. You know this one.”

  He tried shaking his head, but the other restaurant patrons hooted and hollered, urging him on. Reluctantly, he made his way toward Jessie.

  “I’m warning you: I’m no good at this.”

  “Nobody cares,” she said.

  Then the music started and Jessie launched into the song, crooning about rainbows and love. The fairy lights lit a halo around her fiery hair, making her glow with an ethereal beauty. When she smiled at him all the breath left his body as an epiphany hit him in the gut. At some point in the last twenty-four hours, he had fallen completely and hopelessly in love with this woman. This completely inappropriate, crazy, wonderful woman.

  Damn.

  Two hours later he found himself sitting on the beach alone, hoping to find an answer to his dilemma in the slate-gray depths of the waves. He was adamantly opposed to relationships. Had never imagined himself entering into anything long-term.

  But the thought of Jessie with someone—anyone else—made him want to punch something. Hard. He wanted her for himself. Forever. But could he do it? He let himself imagine their lives together. Working side by side, riding home on his Harley, making love … everywhere.

  The thought didn’t scare him. So he took it one step further. Pictured a baby in Jessie’s arms. A red-haired baby, of course. And found himself smiling.

  Whoa.

  All right. So obviously, his psyche was willing to give this relationship thing a shot. And when he thought about it the business side of him agreed. What better way to get rid of the Goddess problem than to tie the proprietress of Roar to him—and to Thornton by extension?

  The problem would be getting her to agree. She’d made it very clear that she didn’t do relationships.

  He jumped when a bottle of wine was thunked into the sand next to him.

  “You were right,” Jessie said as she sat down.

  Nick took a deep breath to calm himself. “Right about what?”

  She reached for the wine bottle and began pouring it into the two insulated wine tumblers she’d brought with her. “You can’t sing.”

  He laughed. “Told you so.”

  She grinned back at him. “It was very gallant of you to do it anyway.”

  “It seems I’d do just about anything for you. First skinny-dipping, then singing in public—all within twenty-four hours! You should feel special.”

  He said it with a smile, but in his heart he knew it was no joke.

  “I do.” She squeezed his hand.

  “Do what?”

  “Feel special. You’ve been amazing this weekend. I want you to know I really appreciate it. If only …”

  “If only what?” His senses were on high alert. Did she have feelings for him? God, he hoped so.

  “Never mind. I said we weren’t allowed to play the ‘what if?’ game this weekend.”

  “Go ahead. I want to hear what you were going to say.”

  She stared off into space, seeming to search the stars for answers. “I just wish things were different. That I’d met you in a different life or something—you know?”

  Nick was silent for a long moment as he argued with himself. Logically, he knew he should leave it at that. But he couldn’t.

  “I know. But, Jessie, we don’t have to give up on this. I know it will be complicated, but we can make it work.”

  She shook her head sharply from side to side. “No. I don’t do relationships. Period.”

  Nick felt himself growing frustrated, even though he had known that was what she’d say.

  “Jessie, do you have feelings for me?”

  She glared at him. “I won’t allow myself to have feelings for you.”

  He brushed the hair off her forehead. “Well, pretend you did allow yourself.”

  Her mouth pulled back in a snarl and she stood up, angrily brushing sand off her butt.

  “If you really must know—then, yes. You’re the first man I’ve ever met that I can imagine having a future with. But I don’t want to feel that way. I don’t want to have a future with anybody. I. Don’t. Do. Love.”

  She turned and stalked away, but not before Nick saw the angry tears in her eyes.

  He went after her, determined to make her listen.

  “Jessie!” he called as he paced after her.

  She crossed her arms around her chest and sped up.

  He broke into a run, circling in front of her. He was just going to have to lay it all out on the line and hope for the best. He took a deep breath.

  “Jessie, I think I’m in love with you.”

  She stopped and stared at him. “What did you say?”

  “Jessie, I think I love you.”

  Her face crumpled and she flew at him, fists flying. “How dare you say that to me? How dare you?” she screeched, tears flowing down her face. “That isn’t fair!”

  Nick grabbed her fists in his hands and pulled her to him as gently as he could. “I know it’s too soon to say that to you. I don’t expect you to feel the same way. But if you’ll give me a chance—if you’ll take a chance on us—I promise I’ll find a way to make this work, Jessie. I promise.”

  “I c-c-can’t,” she said between tears. “You don’t know what you’re asking of me.”

  “Yes, I do. And I know you can. You just have to be brav
e. And you, Jessie, are the bravest woman I’ve ever met.”

  She took a shuddering breath and looked up at him, her eyes searching his in the moonlight.

  “I don’t feel very brave right now. I’m scared.”

  “Can you tell me why?”

  “I really don’t want to.”

  He let go of her fists and cupped her face with his hands. “Please try.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t. Not yet. But I will soon.”

  “All right. That will have to be good enough,” he said, trying not to let her see his frustration. “But can you at least agree to see where this takes us? If you decide tomorrow that you hate me and you never want to see me again I’ll go. But if you don’t I’d like to stay.”

  “I can’t promise you forever, Nick.”

  “I’m not asking for forever. I’m just asking for tomorrow.”

  She shook her head.

  “Please?” He let his expression show her how much her answer meant to him.

  She growled. “Goddamn it, Nick.”

  He didn’t respond. He knew silence was his best weapon right now.

  She paced a little way down the beach and kicked at the surf again and again. He smiled when he heard a litany of expletives hit the air. She was coming around.

  Finally she stalked back to him. When they were standing almost nose to nose, she spoke. “Fine. You can have tomorrow. But, Nick, if you try and use my emotions against me—if you try to take Roar from me …”

  “I won’t.” He wouldn’t.

  “And don’t expect me to get all girlfriendy. I don’t even know how to be a girlfriend.”

  “I never would.” He didn’t know how to be a boyfriend either.

  “Then fine. One day at a time.”

  “Thank you.”

  She tilted her lips up to his, wordlessly asking him to kiss her. He did as she asked, intending to keep it soft and gentle. The moment his lips touched hers, though, she melted against him, seeming to want to absorb him into her skin.

  He let his lips and tongue communicate the wild heat that sizzled in his veins, lashing and sucking and claiming her mouth for his own. He slid his hands down her body, undoing the strings of her bikini one by one, desperate to remove all the physical barriers between them. Finally she was bare in front of him.