The Sex On Beach Book Club

by Jennifer Apodaca

  Holly looked at her. “You helped us in the bookstore, Nora. We couldn’t have done it if you hadn’t distracted Helene.”

  She nodded. “I watched her shoot you with my gun. I told her about the gun once, and the story of my ex-husband and how Ryan and I were starting over in Goleta. I didn’t even know Wes was really Nick Mandeville, and it wouldn’t have mattered if I had because I’d never heard of Nick. I never blamed anyone but my ex-husband for his gambling and embezzling.” Nora took a sip of her wine and added, “Helene’s a monster. She told me that Cullen had pictures of us having sex on his computer and he was going to put them on his blog. I couldn’t let Ryan…”

  Tanya squeezed her hand. “You have friends now, Nora. We all do. If we run into trouble, we know who to count on.”

  Holly looked around the table, seeing her family and friends. Tanya was right. The gaping hole in her life without Wes was painful, but her friends made it bearable.

  Sitting across from her, Jodi said, “Oh, there’s George.”

  He strode up, looking a little less lean. Taking care of the bookstore, and watching out for Jodi and Kelly, had given George a purpose. He came to Holly’s side, leaned down, and cupped the elbow of her good arm. “We have some business,” he said to the table. “Excuse us for a minute.”

  George helped Holly out with her PI work now and again. He was a natural at investigating, but he longed for something more. The trouble was that people were still after George. Even Holly didn’t know his real identity. She was pretty sure she could find it if she wanted to.

  She didn’t.

  Getting up, she grabbed her purse and followed George outside. They stood on the slab of cement in front of the restaurant. “What’s up?”

  He smiled down at her. “Go to Wes’s house, Holly. Go see him.”

  Shocked, she said, “Now? What, is he summoning me like an employee?”

  “He wanted to come here and get you himself. I told him that if he showed up, it’d be hours before the two of you could get away from the group.”

  She opened her mouth and almost asked him if Wes was back for good. If he still wanted her. If they had a chance. She shut her mouth and looked down. She wore her usual jeans and a tank top, and she’d added a black jacket for her meeting with the lawyers earlier in the day. She had her hair up in its usual clip.

  “Holly.”

  She looked up.

  “Do you want me to go with you?”

  She glared at him. “Hell, no. I don’t need a baby-sitter.”

  He grinned.

  “Bastard.” Her nerves were stretched tight, and George was playing with her.

  He slid his glasses down his nose and looked at her. “Make no mistake. If you didn’t go on your own, I’d drag your chicken-shit ass there myself. You two are really getting on my nerves.” He turned and started for the door of the Elephant Bar.

  Holly had to bite back a laugh. Not that she doubted him. “George.”

  He looked back at her over his mostly healed shoulder.

  “Thanks.” She turned and headed for her car.

  A half hour later, she pulled up in front of Wes’s beach house. She had stopped by her condo to get Monty. The dog was growing; his paws were huge now. She got out of the car with the dog and she inhaled the ocean air. George had told her to go up on Wes’s deck. She led Monty through the gate to the back of the house. At the steps she hesitated. She didn’t hear Wes on the deck, but she heard movement in the house.

  Monty got excited and started yanking on his leash, trying to run up the stairs. He must have caught Wes’s scent. Holly unsnapped the leash and let the dog go. He barked happily and scrambled up the steps.

  A lump formed in her chest. She loved that dog. And damn it, if Wes had decided he was going to move on without her, she was keeping the dog.

  She needed a minute to pull herself together. She turned and headed to the ocean. The sun was quickly falling, sinking into the sea, and leaving the water a dark silver color. She stopped a few feet back from the water, crossed her arms, and watched as the reddish orange orb slid down.

  She would know soon. Wes would tell her the truth. Could he live without fathering a child? Could he love her? Or did he need something else? Both of them had to be honest.

  Monty’s excited barking had quieted. She heard the low tones of Wes’s voice, then nothing. Music started up behind her. Soft jazz drifted down from one of the beach houses. Had Wes turned on music? She heard him walk up behind her and shivered with nerves. She didn’t turn around. “Hello, Wes.”

  He put his arms around her. “I came back for you.” He set his chin on her shoulder.

  His warmth surrounded her, his scent filled her. The sun was nearly down, just a rim of light left. And the jazz music wafted over them. She put her hands on his arms. “Are you sure?”

  He breathed against her neck. “I am. I missed you every day. But you were right to send me away. I had to clean up my life, resolve my legal problems, and spend some time with Michelle.”

  She leaned back against him, into his arms. “How is she?” Holly knew how important Michelle was to him.

  “Amazing. She’s gone back home to Australia to train for her next competition. She’d like us to come see her, and she’ll be back out this way in a few months.”

  “I’m happy for you.”

  “I know you are, Holly. Before I came home, I flew to Washington and talked to Lacey. I told her that I was sorry I didn’t listen to her and do something about it. Conrad was more than just a baseball player, or a homerun slugger, he was a man who touched many lives. She’s something else, Holly.”

  “She forgave you.”

  His silence settled over her for a full minute. “I won’t forget him, and I’ll always live with guilt. But she told me she doubted I could have done anything. She carries guilt, too. But the point is, you made me face my ghosts, and come back to you ready for a future.” He kissed the curve of her neck, then said, “When I looked out and saw you standing down here in the sunset, I knew I was home.” He paused and added, “What about you? Do you want me, Holly?”

  That was easy. “I never stopped wanting you.” But she had to make sure. She turned in his arms and looked into his eyes. They were a darker green as the day slid into night. And just looking into his eyes made her heart open. Setting her hands on his waist, she said, “Maybe we can adopt or—”

  His smile was intimate and easy. “Or we’ll be aunts and uncles to your brothers’ and my sister’s kids. We’ll decide together. But for now, I want time with you.” He reached down and took her wrists, then paused. “How’s your arm?”

  She was a little thrown. “Fine.”

  “Any pain?”

  “No.”

  “Good.” He pulled her wrists up and placed them around his neck. He put his arms around her waist.

  Holly loved the feel of Wes. Out there on the beach in the silky dusk, with the damp sand beneath them and the crashing waves mixing with the jazz music, she knew that she was home, too. With Wes. She took a breath and told him, “I love you.”

  His gaze intensified. “And trust me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then dance with me, Holly.” Using his hands on her waist, he guided her into a gentle sway that melded with the jazz music.

  She stiffened, her heart rate kicking up. She’d rather get shot again then dance. “That’s a sneaky trick.” She tried to keep her body from moving.

  He took his hand off her waist to cup her face. “No trick, Hillbaby. It’s just you and me, and we’re both safe to be ourselves and dance. Close your eyes.” He pulled her up against him, fitting her to him, and kept swaying in rhythm to the music floating down from his deck.

  With her eyes closed, Holly thought of the man strong enough to face his ghosts. Strong enough to love her. Surely he was strong enough to keep her from falling. She relaxed, melting into the pattern of movements in the safety of his arms.

  She did stumble once and snapp
ed her eyes open to see his eyes watching her, full of love and a little smug. “Don’t think you’re going to make me do this in front of people. I’ll shoot you first.”

  He laughed. “There’s my snarky PI with the chip on her shoulder. God, I’ve missed you.”

  “Oh yeah? Then show me, Wes.” Her breath caught in her throat and she frowned. “Are you going by Wes? Or Nick?”

  He pulled her flush against his body with one arm around her waist. He put his hand on her face, and his incredible green eyes bored into hers. “What name are you going to call me when I’m deep inside of you, Holly?”

  She shivered with lust and love, but she didn’t let his gaze go. “Wes.”

  “Damn right, you are.” He took her mouth, plunging his tongue inside of her with a possessive growl. His hand went to cup her butt and pull her hips into his erection. Then he broke the kiss and swept her up into his arms. He looked down into her face. “How do you feel about sex on the beach?”

  “The drink?”

  His smile was wicked. “Hell, no.”

  Turn the page for a first look

  at Sylvia Day’s

  THE STRANGER I MARRIED.

  Available now from Brava!

  Gray faced her. His eyes knowing. She had not gone undetected.

  “I hope one day you do more than watch,” he said softly.

  She covered the lower half of her face with a gloved hand, mortified and anguished. Yet he was unashamed. He stared at her intensely, his gaze taking in the outline of her hardened nipples.

  “Damn you,” she whispered, hating him for coming home and turning her life upsidedown. She ached all over, her skin too hot and too tight, and she detested the feeling and the memories it brought with it.

  “I am damned, Pel, if I must live with you and not have you.”

  “We had a bargain.”

  “This,” he gestured between them, “was not there then. What do you propose we do about it? Ignore it?”

  “Spend it elsewhere. You are young and randy—”

  “And married.”

  “Not truly!” she cried, ready to tear out her hair in frustration.

  Gray snorted. “As truly as marriage can be without sex. I intend to correct that lack.”

  “Is that why you came back?”

  “I came back because you wrote to me. Every Friday the post would come and there would be a letter, written with soft pink parchment and scented of flowers.”

  “You sent them back, every one of them. Unopened.”

  “The contents were not important, Pel. I knew what you did and where you went without your recounts. It was the thought that mattered. I had hoped you would desist, and leave me to my misery—”

  “Instead you brought the misery to me,” she snapped, pacing the length of the small room to ease the feeling of confinement. “It was my obligation to write to you.”

  “Yes!” he cried, triumphant. “Your obligation as my wife, which in turn forced me to remember that I had a like obligation to you. So I returned to quell the rumors, to support you, to correct the wrong I did you by leaving.”

  “That does not require sex!”

  “Lower your voice,” he warned, grabbing her arm and tugging her closer. He cupped her breast, his thumb and forefinger finding her erect nipple, and rolling it until she whimpered in helpless pleasure. “This requires sex. Look how aroused you are. Even in your fury and distress, I would wager you are wet between the thighs for me. Why should I take someone else, when it is you I want?”

  “I have someone.”

  “You persist in saying that, but he is not enough, obviously, or you would not want me.”

  Guilt flooded her that her body should be so eager for him. She never entertained the idea of another man while attached to one. Months passed between her lovers, because she mourned the loss of each one, even though she was the party who said good-bye.

  “You are wrong.” She yanked her arm from his grip, her breast burning where he had touched her. “I do not want you.”

  “And I used to admire your honesty,” he jeered softly.

  Isabel stared at Gray, and saw his determination. The slow, dull ache in her chest was so familiar, a ghost of the hell Pelham had left her in.

  “What happened to you?” she asked sadly, lamenting the loss of the comfort she once felt with him.

  “The blinders were torn from me, Pel. And I saw what I was missing.”

  Here’s a peek at

  WHO WANTS TO BE A SEX GODDESS?

  by Gemma Bruce.

  Available now from Brava!

  Andy took her place at the back of the line of Novices and slowly made her way to the front. The name of Dr. Bliss rose from every conversation and floated around the room like an effervescence. Everyone seemed fascinated by the TV guru. She hadn’t been at the Welcoming Ceremony, and Andy was curious to see her.

  When she reached the head of the line, another purple-sashed priestess gave her a stick-on name tag and a light blue satin sash.

  She followed the others into the auditorium and saw Evelyn, Loubelle, and Jeannie sitting near the stage with the other higher ranking goddesses. She found a seat in one of the rows of folding chairs at the back of the room, reserved for the Novices. Peeking over the top of her glasses, she began a systematic search of each row, looking for a tall, auburn-haired, middle-aged stuntwoman—just in case—and came up blank.

  She did find Dillon Cross, standing in the line of men on risers at the back of the stage behind a long table that presumably would seat the staff of the retreat. The men were bare-chested and dressed in short white kilts. They were all handsome and fit, though some looked self-conscious and some looked ridiculous.

  Unfortunately, Dillon looked good enough to make her forget her reason for being here. He was also perusing the rows of seats, a slight frown on his face, and she took the opportunity to get a good look.

  He was tanned and buff, sleek more than built—like a panther, Jeannie had said. There was something predatory about him. A natural grace that was only slightly disturbed by the hitch in his walk. He had long legs and a developed chest that tapered to a narrow waist. A gold braided belt was fixed several inches below his navel.

  Andy gave herself a buzz, just imagining what was under that little pleated skirt.

  Suddenly he looked right at her. Something zinged in the air between them. He smiled, then shook his head and grinned. Andy shoved on her glasses, chastising herself for being caught ogling her attendant. The world became a blur again.

  Conversation abruptly ceased as several priestesses, all dressed in flowing white robes and purple sashes, entered from a side door and took their places at the table on the stage.

  Katherine Dane came next and stopped at the podium at the center of the long table. She was wearing an off-white silk pantsuit and no sash, just a purple jeweled pin fastened to her lapel. Two men followed her onto the stage.

  The first man, a giant blond with powerful muscles swathed in undulating white pajamas, walked to the far end of the table and sat down. The second man was much shorter, slight, with dark shiny hair that receded from a high forehead. He was dressed incongruously in a pinstriped suit. The overhead lights picked out a sheen of perspiration on his forehead as he sat down.

  Ms. Dane signaled for quiet. The rustle of conversation gradually subsided, and the house lights dimmed until only the stage was left in light. She nodded to the audience, welcomed them again, read off a few announcements, and reminded everyone to apprise themselves of the rules of the retreat.

  “And now, it is my great pleasure to introduce the founder and guiding spirit of Goddess International, Dr. Fiona Bliss.”

  At last, Andy thought and removed her glasses to get a better look.

  All eyes turned expectantly to the closed door. After a few seconds, the door opened, and Dr. Bliss entered, followed closely by two serious-looking young women in white robes crossed by gold and purple sashes.

  The room, as one
, sprang to its feet, and deafening applause reverberated through the air. Dr. Bliss walked to the podium, and Katherine Dane stepped into the background. The supreme goddess lifted her hands, palms upward, and though to Andy it looked like a gesture to continue their accolades, the hall immediately became quiet and everyone returned to their seats.

  Except for her two acolytes. They stood at chairs on either side of the doctor. There was a brief standoff as the two women eyed each other, and not at all worshipfully. A slight gesture by Dr. Bliss and they sat simultaneously.

  Dr. Bliss was close to six feet tall, strikingly poised with classical features and silver hair that was swept back in an elaborate coiffure. She wore a sleek, floor-length caftan decorated in gold braid. She looked magnificent with the row of slaves creating an exotic tableau behind her.

  Silence fell over the room, and Dr. Bliss thanked her “dear Katherine” for the lovely introduction. Andy’s gaze drifted back to Dillon. He was staring down at the floor, completely motionless.

  She turned her attention back to Dr. Bliss, who began talking about finding your inner goddess and how the classes at the retreat would help your self-fulfillment. How women could empower themselves and find satisfaction by discovering their essential woman-ness. The audience hung on her every word.

  “Our detractors dismiss the precepts of the goddess program as mere sex therapy.” She smiled across the rows of listeners. “But it isn’t just about sex…It’s about power.”

  Andy could swear she heard eighty slave gonads shrivel up and play dead.

  Dr. Bliss began to introduce the staff, starting with the priestesses at the far end of the table. Each stood and smiled and nodded to the audience when her name was called, then sat down as the next one was named.

  The pajama-wearing hulk was Hans somebody, the retreat’s masseur, and more, if the sighs around Andy meant anything more than wishful thinking.

  Then the doctor turned and smiled down at the smaller man. “And this is my husband and help mate, Bernard Bliss, who will be conducting the Eternal Orgasm sessions.”